The Empress, The Lovers, and The Star
by littlestnightmare
Summary: Aerys makes a very different choice, to marry Rhaegar to Cersei Lannister. Cannon Divergence AU (Cross post to AO3. KBRC is co-author)
1. Everything Will Glow

Everyone knew that Harrenhal was cursed, just as everyone knew that House Whent would be dead within a few years, but that didn't stop them from flocking to the tournament there anyway. People would have been kidding themselves if they said that they attended to look at the majesty of House Whent, when in truth they were going to look on the Dragon Prince, said to be one of the most striking men the realm had seen in centuries, and his soon-to-be lady bride who was said to be the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms.

Those motivations were just as true for the "lady-bride" herself. As Cersei Lannister rode towards Harrenhal that day she felt a tiny twinge of fear in her gut. The last time she had seen the prince she had been dressed in clothes stolen from her brother and practicing with a light wooden sword in the gardens of the Red Keep, thinking no one would spot her. But Rhaegar had found her, and that had been the last time he had seen her for four years. Needless to say, she had not wished to leave him with the impression that she was anything less than the beautiful Queen she was expected to be, and not the scrawny, boyish child she had seemed. But it couldn't be helped then. Now it was Cersei's chance to prove him wrong, a chance to prove that she could be the queen she needed to be.

Jamie rode up besides her, looking beautiful in his usual gold and red. Part of Cersei was angry that she would never see him again in those colors. Only white from now on, the color of purity and virginity, neither of which could ever describe her brother.

He smirked at her, "Come sister, why such a long face?"

Cersei tossed her long golden hair down her back. "I don't have a long face, I'm just thinking."

Jamie raised his eyebrows, "And what would my sister have to think about? About what color red to wear on which day? Or how best to make the common people adore you?"

Cersei wrinkled her nose at her brother in mock anger, "I'm thinking of ways to make Prince Rhaegar see me as a woman and someone worthy of being his Queen." Of course, she knew that that would bother her beloved twin, and despite the things they had told themselves in the many nights they'd spent together, there were more important things than their love. Truer things. Like the love of a Prince. Or a King for his Queen, as Rhaegar would be in a few years.

Jamie started and pulled up his reins then set off at a quick trot to catch up with Cersei as she pulled ahead.

"Love you? You want him to love you? Why on earth do you need him to love you? You already have my love, isn't that enough?"

Cersei shook her head and regarded her brother. She swallowed the echo of sadness as she beheld this boy, soon to be a man, who had been her lover for so many years. Yet part of her knew that if Rhaegar loved her then she would be happier, and so it was with pride and just a bit of scorn that she responded to her brother, "He is to be my husband and I am to be his Queen, so if you would kindly shut up about it, and get over it, yes I do want my husband to love me so that I can have a chance at happiness."

Jamie looked at her like a wounded puppy dog, "What about me? Won't I be enough for you?"

Cersei looked at her brother and felt a great weight in her heart. "But Rhaegar will be my husband and the greatest reward a women can have is the love of her husband." Gods, she sounded like the septa she had so long despised growing up.

Jaime quieted at her comment, not sure what to say when faced with Cersei's indomitable pride. Of course, he wanted her to be happy and to be loved, but he wanted to give her that happiness, not this Prince who had ignored them growing up, and had so often brushed Cersei aside. How could he make her any happier? Before he could voice his concerns, however, their father rode up demanding that she get into the litter so that none of the noble lords would see Tywin Lannister's daughter riding about on a horse like some wildling girl. Compliantly, Cersei retreated to behind the veil of her litter.

The noise increased as they drew closer to Harrenhal, and Cersei's stomach churned a moment before she contained herself. She deserved to be here, in all the splendor her family could provide. Possibly in less than a year she could be their Princess, and she would be revered. A little thing like nerves wouldn't get in the way of that.

To many the tourney at Harrenhal was an excuse to see the pageantry of the ruling families on display, and to join in a moment of revelry in the midst of the Summer peace. As much as peace was safe, it was a boring affair, and watching a joust was a close to a war as many believed they would get. But there were deeper motives at play, known to a select handful in the upper echelons of Westerosi society. To them, the tourney was the cover for a meeting the Prince had finally had the gall to call.

Rhaegar Targaryen was not a man that most dared cross. When he was a boy he had been an avid reader and all that he had wanted to do was become a scholar like Bealor the Blessed, but then he had learned and he had grown, and now he was not only a scholar but also a warrior and a Prince. The Crown Prince. He was a man to be feared. That didn't mean the conversation he was about to have didn't unnerve him slightly. Lord Tywin Lannister, along with Lords Doran Martell and Mace Tyrell were waiting for him in a small room off in a corner of the great ruin. Rhaegar knew that he should have asked a Stark, but they were too invested in their damned honor to agree to a plan like this, and so he would have to wait. He entered the room to find all of the men already there and standing around a table, except for Doran Martell who was already seated.

Rhaegar coolly examined the men facing him; with a small half smile curling up the side of his face, and then spoke in a drawling voice, his long strides carrying him to the chair at the head of the table.

"Well gentlemen we had best get on with this meeting, my father will realize at some point that I am not, precisely, where I should be."

Mace Tyrell laughed nervously while Doran simply leaned back in his chair. Rhaegar was more invested in watching Tywin. The man was looking at him coolly, as if he were already making calculations for what could be gained or lost by what Rhaegar was about to suggest. But that was the Lannisters for you, everything in cost and benefits, brilliantly strategic and cold. Rhaegar figured that only Tywin had any idea what was happening and that although Doran may have some idea, Mace was clueless.

Tywin took a seat at Rhaegar's right while Mace moved to the only remaining seat.

"I can guess that you all have figured out exactly why I asked you to join me today." He began, resting his long hands together and folding each finger over the next slowly.

Mace continued to look confused while Doran nodded absent mindedly. Only Tywin answered him directly. "Obviously."

Rhaegar nodded and then began to speak, carefully gauging all of the men's' reaction to his words.

"My father has sat on the Iron Throne for 19 years and thus far his reign has been competent if only for the reason that his hand was able to restrain him. Now we face two small problems, the first concerned with only you, Lord Tywin. I know that you are upset at your sons' appointment to the Kingsguard, but after you left your position, well…" he paused only to sigh and stretch out his fingers, "The past few months have not gone well. My father was once a good and kind man I like to believe, but over the past few years that has begun to change. I know that he was always an eccentric man, but things have gone to far. He seems to believe that everyone is out to get him or about to betray him for some reason or another. He has become fascinated with burning prisoners instead of merely beheading them, and the men for the Kingsguard have told me that he often says the same thing in his sleep over and over again, 'burn them, burn them all.' I have come to you today with a proposal that I need each of your help to execute. My father cannot be allowed to sit on the throne of the Seven kingdoms for much longer. I would ask your assistance in removing my father from the throne."

The Lords were silent for a moment. Of course, it was exactly what Tywin had expected to hear. He had been the hand to hold back the King for many years, and knew of his...ailments. "I don't believe this is a new issue, entirely," he spoke flatly, proudly although he was addressing the Prince. "It is something that has been an ongoing problem, one that took much effort to restrain." He frowned at Rhaegar, not betraying his intentions just yet. Of course, the King needed to be removed, and it wouldn't be a bad decision for his own family, considering his daughter was set to marry the prince, and would make a favorable Queen. "Of course, removing him without causing a great upset is a rather cumbersome problem. I suppose that is why you're requesting our assistance?"

Rhaegar nodded, sitting up more as the old Lion spoke. He had feared the man as a boy, but much less so now. "Yes. I don't think we can simply...remove him." He made sure his voice didn't falter, having thought much over this particular aspect of the problem. King Aerys, father or not, was no longer a good man nor a good King. Had he not been King, they would have been at this point ages ago, had kinslaying or regicide been any easier Rhaegar would have already removed his father. "He needs to die, inconspicuously, and preferably accidentally. We can't risk the threat of causing a rebellion or weakening the power of the Throne."

"And you propose we pledge our allegiance to you, here and now?" Tywin asked, still placid as if he were discussing the latest harvest or sales.

"Yes. As the next in the line-"

"I don't mean to question your legitimacy." Why would he, when he stood to purely benefit, "merely your intent at this meeting. We can hardly kill him now."

"Oh." The Prince faltered a moment, his old apprehension around Tywin returning. "I understand. Yes, I think that would be the right course of action, and we could move most speedily past this, without incident."

Mace for the first time spoke up. "Prince Rhaegar, don't get me wrong. I think that you are a good man and would made an able king but what you're suggesting, well your grace, it's regicide! One of the worst crimes."

Rhaegar leaned forward, smirking. He had expected this reaction from this man and knew exactly how to play him. "Tell me, my lord, if you had a man who had confessed to a small crime of stealing some weapons to protect his shop, what would you do to him?"

Mace shrugged, "Have his hand cut of I suppose."

"Yes, that would be the logical course." Rhaegar leaned forward, "My father had him roasted slowly over the spit as if he were a cow or a lamb because some voice in his head said this man was a traitor. He said that all the traitors must burn. He says everyone must, so tell me, my Lord, do you think that everyone should burn?"

Tyrell's face had become white as snow. He spluttered for several seconds before answering, "No my lord, I do not."

Rhaegar shifted his attention to Doran who was still silent. "And what do you think, my Lord?"

Doran look up and regarded him for a few moments, stone faced and unblinking. "Well the only logical course here is to get rid of him, my Lord. I doubt there could ever be another."

Rhaegar nodded, "Good, then if you wouldn't mind swearing oaths, my lords?"

Rhaegar left a few minutes later with a satisfied smile on his face. He had what he had come here for, now all he needed was an opportunity to kill the king.

Outside the meeting room, the action of the tournament was commencing. The arrivals of Prince Rhaegar and Cersei Lannister (a mere hour apart, though the two weren't seen together once. In fact, Cersei had yet to be seen since her litter pulled in) had ended the waiting for those attending the celebration, and now the revelry was set to commence. Of course, the women rarely watched the jousts themselves unless a favored knight or lord was participating, and considering the Prince wouldn't be jousting until much later, most of their attention was elsewhere.

That was certainly true for Cersei, who was too busy contemplating if the dress that had been chosen sent the right first impression. She didn't want to be too scandalous, or appear too easy and common. But at the same time there was an expected amount of youthful decadence and frivolity… it couldn't be bothered with now, considering she was already in the seats appointed to her family. Jaime was nowhere in her sights, most likely he'd already found a knight to play squire to for the day. Which left her alone in the stands, staring out at the crowd and fastidiously avoiding casting her gaze to either the Baratheons on her left (she could feel Robert's eyes on her… it made her skin crawl) or the Starks on her right.

"Robert why don't you slide down the bench a little so I can sit next to Lady Cersei?" came a woman's voice from her left. A woman with dark brown hair and grey eyes took the seat that had just been vacated by the Baratheon lord.

"Hello Cersei."

She sighed, turning her head belatedly to look at the woman, if you could call her that with the simple way she was dressed, at her left. "Lyanna," She nodded, knowing who she was from her looks alone, even if she'd yet to properly meet her. Her expression remained cool and aloof though, and she kept the appearance of being too good for the conversation.

Lyanna seemed completely oblivious to Cersei's tone, smiling warming at her. "Tell me, Cersei, have you and Prince Rhaegar set a date yet?" Cersei felt a little taken aback. "Oh, don't worry I'm sure there is no pressure, but I heard that he had a meeting with Doran Martell and they say that Elia Martell is one of the most beautiful women in the Seven kingdoms."

Cersei didn't miss the meaning behind her words, and had she been more like the sigil of her house a snarl would have risen in her throat. But she held back, smiling coolly. "Considering my father was also in that particular meeting, I can assure you Elia was not the topic of discussion. The same is often said of me after all, maybe you as well," she arched a brow, "Though I haven't heard."

Lyanna looked at Cersei with a cool gaze that spoke of northern frost. "Yes and the same is often said of Catelyn Tully in the Riverlands and of Queen Rhaella in the Crownlands, we are each the most beautiful to our own people. Of course there is the fact that Rhaegar is an older man and most likely doesn't want a blushing maiden in his bed, and I'm sure Elia is not a maiden. I have heard they are much freer in Dorne. Tell me Cersei, do you think you could please your royal husband?"

For a moment the young lioness was silent, and tempted to leave the conversation before she let her tongue slip. But she was not one to back down from a fight or admit defeat. "I'm not one to blush," she told her with a small smirk. "But I don't think your question is one appropriate for such a public setting, do you? Although, given your companion," she inclined her head in Robert's direction, "I suppose it's something you speak of often?"

Lyanna laughed, not the dainty one that high ladies often used about each other but a real laugh. "Oh Cersei, we are women, we don't get to chose who we marry or what sort of men we spend our lives with. We are not mistresses of our fates. But," she lowered her voice, "I will admit that my husband is not the most proper in his deeds, but then again who said I am either." Cersei's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Back in the north they said that I was half horse, I believe the Stormlords think that I am all horse."

"I can… hardly imagine that is something to take pride in," She muttered, shaking her head. As brazen as she and Jaime were, and as much as she often used her beauty to get the things she wanted, she was raised to be a lady, to be a Queen, and she was surprised by Lyanna's frankness. "Though manners must be a different matter entirely in the Stormlands." Her gaze flitted back to the Baratheons and she scowled.

"I wouldn't dare speak ill of my husband or his bannermen. But I will say that in the north there would never have been so much blindness in following a liege. In the North honor and respect are something you earn, though in the South it seems to be rather… different. More about blood than deeds, more about name than manner. Do you find this to be true dear Cersei?"

"You've seen little of the South," Cersei replied smoothly. "And I find manner and blood to be equally important. Ones understanding of honor may influence that, however. There is more respect here, I think." She regarded Lyanna closely for a moment and raised an eyebrow. "I suppose you miss the wildness of the North? The Stormlands are wild themselves."

"Well I know that in the north a man would not leave his position because his son was given a great honor, and a younger son would have to do as heir instead." Lyanna's gaze was pointed. "Although I think we may have very similar conceptions of honor when it comes to husbands. I do not miss the wilderness of the North, that is not what I am drawn to, no rather I miss the freedom. There I could control my own fate and I was no man's slave."

Her expression shifted from offense to surprised pity, and then back to it's glacial mask. "Am I to infer that you consider yourself your husband's slave from that?" She opted not to speak to the criticism of her father, though she could make mention to him of the way his decision was viewed. But the notion of being a slave stuck in her head, even if she had not been afforded many freedoms in the last few years. She had been invested in becoming a proper woman, a proper queen, and rarely resented the lack of control, believing she would gain power in the end. The notion of that proving false was unnerving.

Lyanna looked straight ahead pretending to watch the joust, "And tell me Cersei, if you had my husband then what would you consider yourself? And no matter what, we women are slaves, we spend our time preparing to give men sons and to sew in some room in his castle for the rest of our lives, tell me, how would you think of yourself if you had no free will? Why do you think all young girls are so attracted to all the songs, the gallant knight who saves the maiden from the boring life as some mans lady wife, tell me that doesn't sound appealing."

Cersei's lips pursed before she followed Lyanna's gaze to the men charging at each other on the course, lances dropped to pierce armor… or not to, really, although that would make for a much better show. Her thoughts turned macabre, her stomach dropping. Of course, she had considered the songs, and some more childish part of her still believed that her marriage would be like them, just as she had as a girl who drew herself on the back of a dragon. She rallied after a moment, "I hardly think that taking to our duties makes us slaves. And isn't it better to marry a high lord or a prince than a common man, and be burdened with poverty and too many mouths to feed, along with the monotony? A husband who loves you and enables a small measure of power is better than that." She sounded like her septa again, but those words she had to believe. "You have free will, Lyanna, if not as much as you did back in Winterfell."

Lyanna seemed to tense for a minute but Cersei couldn't quite read why. "Your septa has taught you well Cersei, but tell me, has she taught you about what its really like to lie with a man? What its like when you are beneath him and he has full control and nothing you do can make him stop? When he will take what he wants no matter what? Do you know anything of lying with a man, dear?"

The scene Lyanna spoke of was nothing like Cersei recalled with Jaime, unless she requested it from him. And even then she had control. She couldn't not speak the truth. "I couldn't exactly tell you if I did, can I?" She waited, seeing Lyanna look surprised and then shake her head, and then dropped her voice so she wouldn't be heard. "I know what it's like, well, in fact. But I have not found it to be like _that _at all."

Lyanna smiled, "Then the man you chose to lie with loves you well, or he cares for you deeply. A man like Robert might profess love but he will always take what is his and view the women as a slave. Maybe Rhaegar is different. If so you are a very special girl, and lucky. But I must ask if you are not a maid, what do you plan on telling your husband the morning after?"

Cersei nodded to her words, knowing that that very well may be the case. "Not all men are like Robert," she murmured, before blushing and glancing at Lyanna. This was one consideration she hadn't thought of yet. "What do I plan on telling him the morning after? Why would I need to tell him anything?" She looked confused. "I can shed a few tears if he needs that much convincing in the act, but I don't see why after...?"

"Oh child, either your septa taught you nothing or you are purposely ignoring this. A woman bleeds the first time in a way that she will never bleed again. I have heard of girls who break their maidenheads horse riding, but is anyone likely to believe that with you?" Lyanna shook her head in exasperation, "your father should have taken another wife so he would at least have someone to teach you all this! You need to fake it, Rhaegar is rather experienced from what i have heard, and so I would recommend that you think of a solution and fast."

She swallowed and tried to think back to the first time she had fooled around with her brother that way. "I don't recall that part..." She murmured quietly, "but you're sure he'll expect it? I'm sure not all girls bleed...and not all men pay attention. I could just distract him and make sure he doesn't think of it. It would hardly be hard. And it would be better than lying to him." She frowned sharply. "And don't call me a child."

Lyanna smiled, "Until a man puts his cloak around your shoulders promising to protect you, you are a child. As to the other issue, you may be able to distract him that night, but what about the next morning! The castle servants, not to mention your husband, will expect blood on the sheets."

Cersei frowned and pressed her hands together in her lap. It wasn't her fault her father desired her to wait before she married the prince, or that Rhaegar was more indecisive than she would have liked. "Then I'll fake it. I'll wake up first and cut my palm or something to make it look as though I bled." She kept her voice low, not wanting to be overheard.

Lyanna nodded, "Smart, but cut somewhere he won't see for awhile, where none will see. And you have to make sure you can fake virginity in the bridal bed." Lyanna stopped seemingly lost in thought for a minute, when she spoke her voice was soft, "Do you love Rhaegar the way you love the man who took your maidenhood?"

She nodded, waving her hand to the first piece of advice, "obviously." She looked slightly concerned though. "Fake virginity? As in pain? I already said I could cry. And of course I love him. I love him more than..." She caught herself, grateful she hadn't revealed her brothers name and that he hadn't overheard. "He'll be my husband. And the king."

Lyanna suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, "As I said before it is not the title which makes the man. Just because Rhaegar is a prince does not mean he is a good man. Even if Rhaegar has never taken a maiden into his bed he has been trained as to what to expect. Crying may be enough."

Cersei cast her eyes to Lyanna with a glare. "Do you truly think such a beloved Prince could be anything less than a good man? He's not the King." But he could be, Jaime's warning nagged at her mind. She didn't want to be like Rhaella. "And didn't you agree I could distract him?"

Lyanna looked at her through narrowed eyes, "Of course you could distract him," she leaned in close to Cersei's ear, "the trick is to make it believable." she leaned back and looked toward the far end of arena, where a knight in silver armour had just road into the tilts. "And it seems, dear girl, that our dragon prince has arrived."

Cersei's attention immediately snapped to the far end of the tilts, and a softly smug smile settled on her lips, all thoughts of Lyanna far from her mind. That magnificent prince was all hers. A sort of childlike giddiness unfurled in her heart as she watched him ride closer, standing to join the fanfare at his entrance.

In the haze of the jousts Rhaegar let his mind drift from matters of the court, focusing on his opponents. Of course, the ever-present roar of the crowd was always on his mind, but he paid them less attention than many of the other knights. He didn't miss the way the women fawned over him when he rode past, or the way they cheered louder for their Prince. Nor did he miss a certain golden-haired Lady, whom he didn't recognize. But his thoughts were never on them long.

The prince suspected that Barristan Selmy let him win, for the knight of the Kingsguard was a much better fighter than he appeared on the tilt that day. However, he was pleased with the result, a clean hit. The later joust, the last of the day before the feast was set to commence, was a much fairer fight. Brandon Stark, cocksure and boisterous as he was, was a good warrior, and he fought well. Rhaegar appreciated that the young Lord didn't weaken his hits or slow his horse simply because he was up against the prince, and they ran three rounds before the silver haired knight toppled the young wolf to plentiful applause.

Though he wasn't fond of feasts, it was his obligation as Prince, he also wanted to see who the women with golden hair was. So he donned the red and black of his house along with the slim silver crown that nearly matched his hair, and made his way from the uppermost tower in the ruin to the hall below. Once grand, on a normal day no room in Harrenhal was much to look at, but house Whent had obviously put a tremendous effort into making it look less gruesome. The myriad of Lords and Ladies mingling and dancing about the space didn't hurt either, and Rhaegar soon found himself swept into one conversation after the next. Better than being dragged into dances with girls barely flowered, desperately clinging to the hope he would find something special in them. Was the prospect of being Queen really worth reducing themselves to objects of a man's amusement? He managed to make his way to the head table, seated between his father and Tywin, albeit there was a seat between them. He assumed one of the other advisers would take the spot once he too made it through the throng.

As he ate, his violet eyes drifted to the crowd dancing, and he couldn't help the annoyance that flared in his chest. The next feast of this sort after the tournament would be his own wedding feast, and if his mother had her way, to a mere child. As rich as the Lannisters were, he didn't see why they needed a more direct allegiance. Tywin acted for the good of the realm, and Rhaegar saw himself as the best choice to lead. Once Aerys was no longer seated on the throne, there would be no need for the marriage. But his mother would not be persuaded. For heavens sake, when he had mentioned in passing that Elia Martell of Dorne was a much more suitable age, a wiser woman who undoubtedly knew more of the world than Tywin's daughter, she had nearly screeched his ear off.

He was distracted from his thoughts, mid bite into a leg of lamb, by the arrival of the golden-haired woman from earlier at the empty seat to his left.

"Father," Cersei smiled, doing her best to seem calm despite Rhaegar's eyes on her. "Not out dancing tonight?" Of course, Tywin wouldn't be, and he merely gave her a raised brow look, a reminder of why she was here. With a breathy laugh she took her seat and spent a minute getting a small sampling of food before she turned to the Prince. "Congratulations on your victories today, your highness." She smiled, more sultry than sweet.

"Thank you my Lady, I'm sorry I didn't catch your name…" he replied. He had a faint suspicion but he needed to test it.

Cersei chuckled softly and put on a minute pout. "I'm hurt you don't recall my face, Prince Rhaegar. I did live in your castle as a child." She sat up straighter and extended her hand. "Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock."

Rhaegar's eyes shot up as he leaned forward, allowing his lips to brush against her hand. It was soft and delicate, not the hand of a girl who played with swords. "You must be mistaken," He said with a smirk, "Cersei Lannister is a little girl who wore her brother's clothes and played with a sword. This cannot be who that little girl grew up to be."

She smirked and repressed the blush threatening to rise in her cheeks. "Oh, I'm afraid it is you who are mistaken. It has been years, my Prince… a lot can change in such a long time. I seem to remember you as far more… lanky than you are now."

"Well if you are allowed to grow up then so am I." He smiled. She was wearing a dress that was of red silk with only hints of gold detail. Part of him knew it was to prove that she could wear his house colors and part of him did note how beautiful she looked in red. "Now tell me who do you think will be winning this tourney?"

Her smirk softened as he looked at her, a light blush creeping up onto the fair skin of her neck. "I don't think anyone would dare take the title from you, my Lord," she hummed, an almost teasing tone to it. "And seeing as you have defeated the only boy brazen enough to do so earlier today…"

"Oh you insult me, my Lady, nobody would _let_ me win, a joust is always a fair fight!" He leaned in with a smirk on his face and whispered, "At least not until I'm king."

She arched a manicured brow and her smirk stayed in place, even as she fought to control her breathing with the Prince so close. "Something tells me that won't be long from now," she whispered, not wanting Aerys to overhear. "But still, those left to compete against you wouldn't dare risk angering the dragon would they?" He used to tease Jaime about that as kids, when they were but six or seven.

Rhaegar tensed a little but maintained his cool composure, his father had taken to saying that nobody should anger the dragon while he was in his fits. Still he kept his eyes fixed on Cersei as he replied in a low voice that bordered on a growl, "No I would hope that they would not. Then again who knows, have you ever seen a dragon angered?"

Cersei couldn't tamp down the shiver his voice sent down her spine, and it wasn't a shiver of fear. "I can't say I have. Nor that I would ever want to." She smiled up at him softly. "It may be an interesting sight, though I will say I prefer you like this, or while playing your harp. You still play don't you?"

Rhaegar nodded, "Of course I still play, and if you play your cards right I will play for you later." Part of Rhaegar was trying to remember that Cersei was still six years younger than he, but the part that didn't care was winning.

She smiled, still making sure it wasn't the smile of a simpering and smitten maiden. Cersei could tell that she was slowly winning his interest, and she didn't want to slip up. "And how do you suggest I 'play my cards right?'" She nearly purred, her emerald eyes still on his.

He chuckled, "Well that would ruin the point wouldn't it. It's rather like a game. You can't play the game if you already know the winner, can you?" His lilac eyes glittered in the candlelight as he laughed.

Cersei laughed with him, shaking her head delicately and smiling up at him. "But you already know the rules of the game, my Lord. Give me a hint, I promise I catch on quickly."

"Tell me, what sort of hint do you want? There are many different ways for you to win, each has its own rules and its own way of playing. You choose which game you want to play and I promise that I will give you a hint."

She paused for a moment, humming in thought. "Well, there are far too many games that we can't play at a feast, are there?" Both their fathers were listening, she was sure. "Why don't you dance with me and we can play there?"

The Prince eyed her for a minute. He normally hated dancing the way that the girls seemed to throw themselves at him on the floor. He examined Cersei; she looked like a proper lady who was always delicate and graceful. He quickly formed and idea and a smile spread across his lips. "Fine, I will dance with you. But there is one little thing that I demand."

With the way he made her wait, her placid smirk faltered slightly, until he agreed. She cocked her head slightly and looked confused. "How Kingly of you." She teased gently, "What is this demand?"

He leaned in a whispered in her ear, "I get to pick the dance."

Cersei looked confused for a moment, before she relaxed and smiled at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "As you wish. I hope you aren't trying to make me trip, my Lord."

He laughed, "I hope you won't." He pushed back his chair and extended his hand. "Come."

She took his hand and followed him as he lead her toward the dance floor. The song had just finished and the dancers were still clapping. They all moved aside for the prince and Rhaegar lead her right to the middle of the dance floor. Everyone else had moved to the edge of the dance floor, more interested in watching than dancing.

He left her there with everyone staring at her. Cersei raised her chin and tried not to blush with so many eyes on her. Her eyes tracked Rhaegar as he whispered something in the ear of one of the musicians before he returned to her.

His hand set her skin on fire as he placed his hand on her hip and she moved automatically to place her hand on his shoulder while he took her left hand in his. There they stood for a moment as the high Lords and Ladies of Westeros watched them, many with a measure of jealousy in their eyes (for either of the pair, in fact. As many of the men envied Rhaegar as the women did Cersei). Then the musicians began to play and Rhaegar pulled her close as they began to dance.

He had picked a fast Dornish song that had them whirling about the dance floor. At first Cersei was tense, aware that this song was not one that a Lady would normally dance to. She almost tripped several times and cursed herself for allowing Rhaegar to pull her into this mess; she should have remembered that he was always pulling pranks on her.

At some point she met Rhaegar's eyes and he was smiling, a smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle. Cersei laughed out loud, forgetting that there were people watching her and that her father and brother were both observing her. She let her fear of being improper go, for the moment. All the tension in her body slipped away and all she could focus on was the dance and how close Rhaegar was.

The buzzing of her skin still hadn't left by the time of the final joust, and she sat smirking next to Lyanna as Rhaegar trotted onto the tilts, proud on his white horse. She only briefly cast her eyes to his opponent, the mystery Knight of the Laughing Tree. Everyone seated in the stands already knew who the victor would be.

And hopefully, whom he would crown Queen of Love and Beauty. The series of dances between Cersei and Rhaegar at the feast the first night of the tourney, and their subsequent closeness (he'd rarely been seen without her unless in a meeting or a joust) had all but confirmed that he intended to go through with their betrothal. The rumors of Elia Martell as challenger for Queen had been put to rest. And all eyes were on the silver haired prince as he rode into the arena, the red and gold sash tied over the glinting silver of his arm brilliantly apparent. Even if he didn't need the luck, the obviousness of the Lady of House Lannister's token was rather final.

Cersei simply smirked as the eyes of the crowd flitted to her, but soon collective attention was drawn to the track. Though she was hoping for her Prince to knock this mysterious challenger off of his horse on the first run, she still cheered for the direct hit to the man's helm, grinning from ear to ear. By the second run her grin had subsided to a tight-lipped seriousness, watching Rhaegar take a hit to his face had not been the most enjoyable of sights. The third run had the Lords and Ladies on their feet, leaning over the rails and immersed in the pounding of the horses hooves as they charged at each other. Lances were lowered, and there was a resounding clang of metal as the Knight of the Laughing tree went tumbling off his steed, just barely missing the trampling hooves. After a moment of silence the crowd erupted into applause, roses and other flowers being tossed to the Dragon Prince.

Cersei held the deep red rose to her chest, waiting as Rhaegar circled the tilts and removed his helmet, a bright grin on his face. Once he reached her in the stands her smile grew and she leaned over to hand him the rose. "Congratulations," she murmured, watching his violet eyes, which she'd come to be much more comfortable around in the previous ten days. "I told you you would win."

Rhaegar smiled then turned to his right and accepted the crown of blue winter roses from the squire at his side. He leaned forward and smiled, holding the crown out to her, "My lady, will you let me crown you?"

Of course, she'd been expecting him to crown her, but she still couldn't help the giddiness that leapt into her heart. "Of course, my Lord." She smiled brightly, leaning forward further still. In a few months she would be more than Queen of Love and Beauty, but quite possibly Queen of the realm as well.

Rhaegar watched as Cersei leant forward. He smiled and carefully lifted the crown of roses onto her head. "I name you the Queen of Love and Beauty." Rhaegar said as he winked at Cersei. He wasn't sure if Tywin saw it or not but he could tell that Lyanna had.

Cersei allowed a blush to color her cheeks as he placed the crown on her head, and she wished it were a more private space so she could respond in kind. She settled for a soft smile instead of a soft kiss, murmuring "Thank you" to her prince and returning the wink he gave her, her heart hammering in her chest.

Jaime Lannister had watched his beloved sister flirt and seduce the Price for over a week, offering the silver haired man smiles that in the past had only been for him. Watching him crown her only reminded him of what was to come. He'd be losing her to the Dragon, and nothing could stop that. In only ten days she'd already forgotten him, what would it be like after she was wed? He tore his gaze from her and angrily to the scene before him, where Gerold Hightower had stepped before Aerys and Rhaegar, the later still smirking at Cersei.

Gerold Hightower looked down at the young man kneeling before him. As much as he hated to admit it, seeing this young boy be named to the Kingsguard made him feel old. Carefully he drew his great sword and placed it on the young knight's shoulders as if he were knighting him afresh. "Ser Jaime Lannister, do you swear to: protect the king from harm or threat, provide the same Kingsguard protection to royals, lovers, mistresses and bastards, if so directed by the king,follow orders from the king, other royals, the Hand and the Small Council, serve the king's pleasure, keep the king's secrets, protect the king's name and honour, and maintain chastity. Do you swear to all of this and wish to become a member of the Kingsguard?"

Jaime looked up at the old knight in front of him without a hint of deceit. Yes, his father disapproved of him giving up land and title and his position as heir of Casterly Rock to be a glorified bodyguard, but he was committed to it. Not only because he was one of the best knights, despite being the youngest. But more so because it would mean he would never have to leave Cersei. While she was making her vows to Rhaegar, or would be soon, this was his way of making his vows to her. "I swear." He spoke firmly, loud enough that the crowd could hear, and without hesitation. And the vow was true, though a large part of him hoped the chastity would not be for long once Cersei came to her senses.

Ser Hightower nodded, "Then rise Ser Jaime, knight of the kingsguard!"


	2. You've Got Something Coming

As Cersei Lannister was preparing to head west to marry her dragon and be crowned at Rhaegar Targaryen's side, another man was preparing to be a king. As the great lords of the west headed east for the wedding and the smaller lords followed in their footsteps, another man was calling his banners to him.

In the Sunset Sea sit seven islands, barely inhabitable stony masses surrounded by a raging ocean. The people are fierce and strong, they take what they need, they are made of iron and they always pay the iron price. These are the ironborn inhabitants of the Iron Islands.

As the lords of the west moved south and east to the capital the ironborn were gathering on Old Wyk. They gathered on Nagga's hill where ages ago the great sea dragon Nagga had died. Now only her ribs remained, coming out of the ground like immense white trees. In past when there was still a kingsmoot to choose the kings of the islands they held the ceremony here. Today they were here for a very similar reason.

Balon Greyjoy, lord of the Iron Islands was crowning himself king. He had decided to rise up against the Iron throne, the Targaryen dynasty, and the new way. For him the royal wedding was the perfect opportunity. All the Western lords were flocking to Kings Landing at the command of Tywin Lannister, the coast was virtually undefended.

After Harrenhal Lord Greyjoy had spent many hours secluded with his most loyal men as well as his brothers and sons. To them this was the only chance they would get for many years. They had lived to long in the yoke of Targaryen control, they vowed they would return their homeland to the old ways.

As Balon Greyjoy knelt before Tarle the thrice-drowned, priest of the Drowned God, and was crowned with the driftwood crown, the ironborn cheered. They had a King, a true King who would sit on the Sea Stone chair and rule using the old way. They were free again.

Within an hour his fleet was in motion, preparing to launch the attack, and a raven had been sent to Kings Landing proclaiming that the Iron Islands would no longer kneel before the Iron throne.

Rhaegar was in a meeting with his father when Grand Maester Pycelle entered. He turned from his father as the old Maester entered watching as Lords Rickard Stark, Hoster Tully, Tywin Lannister, Robert Baratheon, and Mace Tyrell hurried into the room after them. Varys and Littlefinger were not far behind. Rhaegar rose and watched the men.

It was clear to him that all but Varys where confused as to what was going on. Even Littlefinger looked uncharacteristically nervous. Rhaegar's eyes narrowed as he beheld the spider. Whatever had caused Pycelle to interrupt this meeting must be very bad, and Rhaegar had a sneaking suspicion that the spider already knew, and had chosen not to tell.

Maester Pycelle presented the King with several letters he had received, all in the last hour. Aerys glanced at them suspiciously as he took them although his eyes widened a moment later, his surprise at the words apparent. He handed them to Rhaegar and the Prince felt a stone settle in his stomach.

Rhaegar cleared his throat and raised his head to the assembled men, "It's a good thing my wedding isn't scheduled for another six months." he said, attempting a joke, which fell flat. "It appears that Balon Greyjoy has declared himself King, claiming that the Iron born would only be ruled by Iron born and that they would once more result to the old way." Rhaegar did not miss the look that passed between Tywin Lannister and Rickard Stark. These men had lands closest to the islands and stood to lose the most if the old way was taken up again.

"Lets strike them back!" Robert yelled, thumping his fist down on the table. It shook with the impact and an inkpot fell over.

Tywin Lannister ground his teeth. "And how do you propose to do that Lord Baratheon? The Iron Islanders are raiding up and down the coast as we speak. I doubt they will leave the ships in Lannisport safe in their harbors."

Robert rolled his eyes, "That doesn't matter, the point is we strike back, we don't let them get away with this." He looked to Rhaegar for support. As much as he disliked the man, Rhaegar had to agree with him.

"Lord Tywin," Rhaegar interrupted before a fight could escalate, "You know as well as I do that the Westerlands will be ravaged by this war should the Iron Islanders be left free to roam as they will. I agree with Lord Baratheon, we cannot allow this dissent to go unmet. I suggest you write home and set in place defenses as quickly as possible."

Tywin nodded swiftly, "I will also tell my men in the capital to make their way home at once. Our lands are largely undefended right now. Our men returning will be very helpful."

Rhaegar nodded, then he turned to look at the other men, and "I suggest the rest of you write your bannermen, we must prepare for war."

As the men left Aerys spoke for the first time, so only Pycelle and Rhaegar heard him. He whispered in a hoarse voice, like that of a dying man, speaking in tongues more befitting of snakes. "Burn them," he hissed, "Burn them all."

Victarion Greyjoy truly began the war, burning the ships in harbor at Lannisport. It put the throne at a disadvantage as they had planned on using the fleet to attack the Iron Islands. With the Lannister Lord and Host in the capitol, there was little that could be done to prevent such action, and they should have known it was coming.

Aerys received the raven from Lannisport and flew into a rage. All across the Red Keep people could hear him yelling, calling Rhaegar a fool, saying they should have attacked faster, and calling Owen Merryweather the worst hand to have ever lived for not warning him of the dissent on the islands.

That night Owen Merryweather was given to the flames and Jaime was forced to listen again as Queen Rhaella was raped. The Kings rages were well known throughout the kingdoms, the rumors of his madness spreading far faster than the fears of war. The death of the Hand would only fuel these fires, the threat of destruction, implosion, strengthening in the minds of the people.

The next day Jon Connington was made Hand of the King and Rhaella flew to Dragonstone with Viserys to protect the babe she carried.

Rhaegar and Tywin were quick to regroup. They ordered Mace Tyrell to bring ships from the Reach, Doran Martell also sent as many as he could, albeit reluctantly. Less than a week after the letter was received the war plan was finalized. Rhaegar and Tywin would lead the war while Lord Stark would take care of the van with Lord Baratheon.

Rickard had often thought that if Rhaegar and Tywin ever worked together they would be an unstoppable force, which would hopefully prove to be true. By the time the men were marching to the Westerlands where they would all gather, Balon Greyjoy had launched another attack.

The iron fleet had been raiding up and down the coasts since the burning of the fleet in Lannisport. They took freely from the Riverlands, the Westerlands, and the Stoney shore. Now Balon was ready for a new assault to be launched, he sent his son and heir, Rodrick Greyjoy, to the town of Seagard in the Riverlands.

Brandon Stark had been visiting his bride-to-be Catelyn Tully in the Riverlands before they made their way to the Red Keep. When the news of the rebellion reached Riverrun, Brandon rode with his bannermen to Seagard to defend the coast from the reavers.

He reached the castle at noon two days after the fleet burned in Lannisport with 500 men at his back. They were quickly stationed throughout the town. With the added forces Jason Mallister didn't believe that the ironborn would be able to touch them. Still they waited, watching the ocean waiting for signs of longships coming over the waves.

They had their test just one day later when Rodrick Greyjoy, son arrived with a fleet of ironborn to take the town. Seagard was the gate to the interior of the Riverlands, Balon knew that if he seized it quickly and could keep it, he had a good shot of holding off the River Lords.

The great bell that hung in the town, the Booming tower, was rung for the first time in nearly a hundred years. The Ironborn cheered as they heard it carried over the waves, laughing as the greenlanders flew from them. They did not expect to find the town well defended.

The reavers surged ashore and were able to push their way up to the walls of the castle. Just before the battle Jason had the Stark men back to the castle walls so that they would surprise the islanders once they were ashore.

When the Reavers reached the castle and saw the Stark banners, it did not slow their approach, they rushed on anyway, into a wall of glistening northern spears as the battle was joined.

The battle was fierce and all three of the commanders fought through in search of their rivals. Brandon and Rodrik met first. Both were skilled fighters and they seemed to be evenly matched, they fought for several minutes trading blows back and forth but never able to draw blood. Brandon had always had the wolf blood in him, which is why his men had met the reavers in battle; he felt he could beat the Iron born.

But as Brandon stepped back to avoid a potentially finishing blow he slipped in a rather blood soaked patch of grass and fell. Jason Mallister saw Rodrik's sword arch through the air like a snake. Brandon's neck opened the same as any other man's would.

Jason saw Brandon's death and chased Rodrik through the battle and they met just before the gate. Rodrik was a strong fighter but his skill was on the ocean and beneath the walls of the castle, on dry land, Jason held the upper hand.

They fought before the gates for several minutes, until eventually Rodrik began to tire. His sword became heavier to lift with every swing. By the time Jason delivered the death blow through his stomach it felt through every swing of the sword was him lifting a ship over his head.

After Rodriks death the remaining ironborn fled into the ocean and returned to their islands.

Lord Hoster heard of Brandon's death, he immediately demanded that Eddard Stark marry his daughter to uphold the alliance, Rickard wanted to protect his southern interests and agreed before even once asking his son.

Then Rickard swore revenge on those who had killed his son.

After Tywin smashed the majority of the ironborn at Fair Isle, the commanders sailed to the Iron Islands themselves. Ser Barristen, newly commander of the kingsguard and Stannis Baratheon subdued the majority of the islands. All that was left was Pyke and its castle within the walls of which Balon Greyjoy and his two remaining sons were hiding.

The night of the final siege, Rhaegar called a war council. When Robert Baratheon heard he headed for the commanders tent, but a pretty redhead caught his eye and before he knew it he was running late. He was learning that the Iron born women were more fun than many he had met. He checked off yet another kingdom on his list, he wished to bed a girl from all seven kingdoms and the riverlands, he only had Dorne left.

His thoughts did not turn to Lyanna as he hurried along the cliffs to the commander's tent. He was now running a good half hour late. He smiled as he gazed out at the rough ocean, and where it met the stars in the distance. Looking at the darkness his thoughts wandered back to the Vale, he wondered how his daughter was. He couldn't remember her name for the life of him, but he remembered her hair. As black as night, with Baratheon blue eyes. He decided after the wedding he would go to visit her.

He entered the tent and was met with Rhaegar Targaryen icy gaze. From the way the men around the table were looking at him he knew that they knew exactly where he had been. He moved to sit by his friends but found that his best friend, Eddard Stark was sitting in between his father lord Rickard and Tywin Lannister. Robert missed the glare in Eddard's and Rickard's eyes as they watched Robert return from his infidelity. They sat to Rhaegar's right with Tywin sitting directly next to him.

To the princes left sat lord Hoster Tully along with Mace Tyrell and Jason Mallister. At the foot of the table to Roberts left and right were his younger brother Stannis and Ser Barristen. Both men had distinguished themselves early on and earned a place of honour. Robert resented his brother for the glory he was receiving, as the older sibling the glory should have been given to him. Robert grumbled under his breath as he was forced to take the seat directly opposite Rhaegar and looking right into his haunting purple eyes.

Rhaegar leaned back and folded his arms, his smirk the most sinister that Robert had ever seen it. "I hope you left the poor girl with something for her troubles, Baratheon. Or did you take after the ironborn and leave her nothing but another one of your bastards?"

Robert glared, had it been anyone other than the crown prince he would have said something. The other lords around the table were all smirking other than Tywin and the Starks. Robert hopped it was because of their affection for him and his bride, Ned's little sister, but he guessed it was because all three of those men were too serious for the jest.

"Now," said Rhaegar, leaning forward, "To business. I have decided Baratheon that you shall lead the van tomorrow in breaching the wall along with Lord Rickard. I suggest that you lead the men themselves and Rickard you take care of the catapults."

Lord Rickard shook his head, "My prince, if you don't mind, these men killed my eldest son. I loved him dearly and I would like to lead the men through the breach if possible."

Rhaegar gave the lord a long glace, sizing him up carefully. Rickard was aging, though he had once been a capable warrior. Rhaegar however was more concerned about letting Robert man the catapults. In the end, however, Rhaegar could not deny the man his wish.

"You are a capable warrior, and if Robert doesn't mind than I have no trouble with that," he told him.

Had it been any other situation Robert would have argued, but looking at the Stark man's face, he could tell that both men were mourning the loss of their family member. The Starks may be icy men, but there was a fire within them that was burning bright.

The rest of the meeting spent talking about various points of strategy both for the breach as well as for other battles they anticipated. Robert wasn't paying any attention, he was thinking about the girl he had just fucked and how magnificent her breasts had been.

The next day the siege on Pyke began. The van battled their way up to where they were just under the walls, to the right of where the breach was supposed to occur. Rickard stood closest to the soon to be breach and it would have ended well if Robert had bothered to pay attention the night before. As it was Robert misaimed the catapult and the rubble fell not in front of Rickard but right on top of him and a few of the men who had been most eager to go through the breach. As Jorah Mormont watched his liege lord disappear under a pile of rubble all he could think was how large a weight was about to fall on Eddard Starks shoulders. Then he realized the wall had been breached and he was running to enter intot he castle.

Jorah burst into the courtyard right behind Thoros of Myr whose sword was on fire. He battled fiercily and many a good man fell before this young squire. At some point he met a powerful ironborn, the fiercest he had yet to meet who wielded and axe with terrifying power. Though Jorah did not know it he was facing Maron Greyjoy, Balon's second son and heir. Ser Barristen witnessed the battle and later told Rhaegar it was as if the gods had given the young man the courage of a dragon. He fought Maron's axe with his sword until he slipped past the man's guard and severed his head from the rest of his body in one smooth stroke. Thus Balon lost his second son leaving only his youngest Theon, and thus Jorah Mormont earned his knighthood.

The battle was won shortly after. Jorah received his knighthood kneeling before Prince Rhaegar himself. Balon Greyjoy swore fealty before Lord Tywin Lannister and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen with Lord Eddard Stark standing by. Lord Eddard was given Theon as a ward and hostage to ensure that the Iron islands would remain loyal to the crown.

But one thing had changed on the winning side of the battle. Eddard Stark would never trust Robert Baratheon again. He knew that it was Roberts fault that his father had died and he would never forgive him for that. The Lannisters and the Targaryens had also realized that Robert was not a man to ever be given command again. Thus the first rift between the Baratheons and the other houses was born.

The men all made their own ways home. The Northern men as well as those from the Riverlands and the Vale of Arryn made their way home via Seagard. The Northerners stopped in Riverrun to witness the marriage between Lord Eddard and Catelyn Tully, whom he had agreed to marry after his brother's death.

Those from the Reach and Dorne sailed the farthest south to their homes while those from the Stormlands, Crownlands, and Westerlands sailed to Lannisport and made their own way home. But in Kings Landing there was no rest for the weary. There was a wedding to prepare for.


	3. Act Nice Like a Lady

The king is dead. Long live the king.

The scars of Aerys reign and the recent rebellion hung over the kingdom in torn banners, those returning from the war as bloodied and bandaged as the few who witnessed the former king's final descent to madness. _A sword in the back is a coward's kill_, or so they said, and Cersei couldn't help but feel the whispered words crawl across her skin like so many ants, the single name swarming her like a host of flies. Kingslayer. Jaime. _He did it for me_, she thinks, wandering the Red Keep late at night, as she was wont to do. _He did it for me so I wouldn't face Rhaella's fate, a beast of burden for beatings and rapes._ But the act still soiled the Lannister name, so soon before her wedding.

Queen you shall be. The promised words echoed in her ears with each breath in the Keep, each time she saw Rhaegar, proud and resplendent and everything she had ever dreamed of. She wasn't some blushing maiden, not after so many years at her twin's hand, but this was the Prince, now the King. It would be different, surely. Jaime, precious and loved as he was, was no Rhaegar. She didn't imagine the Prince to be the type to frequent the pleasure houses so abundant in King's Landing, but she also couldn't conceive the thought of him being inexperienced. He must know things, things her brother couldn't dream of. No, she wasn't a blushing nervous maiden, but looking out at the smattering of lantern lights over the city she was blushing, excitement and eagerness making her blood boil and rise to her skin. Queen, and to such a King as ever was. She almost pitied Lyanna Stark, or Baratheon now, for her oaf of a husband. Lyanna who had spoken so frankly to her at Harrenhall, when Rhaegar had been tempted to shirk the betrothal between the Lion and the Dragon. He hadn't wanted to marry a girl 6 years younger than him, nor have to wait for her to mature so he could marry her. He wanted a wife, and not a girl, but a woman.

The Prince hadn't been expecting the brilliance of the Lannisters. Cersei may have been a slightly too tall eleven year old when he'd seen her 4 years before; dressing in her brothers squire's clothes and playing at swords in the gardens between her lessons, but four years was a long time. Back at Casterly Rock that _girl _had become a woman worthy of the title of most beautiful, as her father so often promised she was, usually while assuring them both that Rhaegar couldn't possibly want to break the engagement once he saw her. So the old lion took his twins to the tourney at Harrenhall, his daughter dressed in red silks more decadent than even the royal family was wearing. Lannister gold, filling the royal coffers and marking them out as the wealthiest in all of Westeros.

Her fears were assuaged when Rhaegar didn't recognize her at first, until she boldly began a conversation with him at the first night's feast. After that the rest of their courtship was a formality, a game of wits and enchantment. The Prince hadn't needed to sweep his bride off her feet but he had anyway, and Cersei felt all the more in love with him for it. She did love him, much more than she thought she could ever love anyone. Jaime, her twin, her other half, bore much of her love… and yet Rhaegar held her admiration, desire, and adoration.

And come sun down tomorrow she would be his and he hers. The young lioness smiled into the night, the smell of the city she usually recoiled from not bothering her tonight. Her impending wedding left her with too much lightness for the stench of sewage to dampen her mood.

After several minutes she heard the steady footsteps of her King on the flagstones behind her. Quiet as they were she had come to know them well, as they increasingly pushed the limits of courtship. Arranged betrothals often led to often-stumbled first steps in a marriage, but Cersei had spent the months immediately after Harrenhall in an extended courtship, due to the Greyjoy rebellion. She and Rhaegar had had more than enough time to get to know each other, and she was almost completely comfortable around him. Only rarely did she let herself miss Jaime's company, now that he was temporarily distanced from her, and the closeness they shared as twins. They were the same, but Rhaegar was something totally unequaled, and she found it was getting easier to be with him, to speak honestly and without guarding herself. She hoped and saw that he felt the same.

Rhaegar rested his hands over hers on the edge of the window and she smiled softly. Often they found each other up late at night like this, both insomniacs it seemed. He rested his palms over hers and linked their fingers, bending slightly to set his head on her shoulder. "I figured I would find you asleep for once," he teased quietly, his deep velvet baritone sending shivers down her spine. "Although you don't need beauty sleep." Her smile broadened, but she didn't smirk. He was sweet so regularly now, little comments like that no longer felt like hard-won victories.

"I find I'm too excited to sleep, my King," Cersei murmured softly, a light blush on her cheeks though she didn't look at him.

The open admission surprised him slightly, and Rhaegar chuckled into her hair. "Excited about the wedding? What is there to be excited about? Another feast, hours of entertaining boring Lords and Ladies?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'll finally be yours. Don't tell me you've not grown impatient as well."

"Ah, well I have for some things…" his voice dropped to a slight purr, and she recognized the playful, pranking tone of the Prince who had dragged her into a foolishly improper dance at their first real meeting. "Though there is still much time between us and that."

"Much time, and much pomp and circumstance." She hummed, although the blush in her cheeks had flamed higher, "Bedding ceremonies too."

Rhaegar didn't miss the way her voice darkened slightly at the mention of that particular element of the wedding, and he sighed. "We'll see. I am the King, maybe I desire to be the only one to undress my Queen." He saw the way that made her smile, but in the dark he missed the guilt that clouded her eyes for a moment, the fear that he would discover her experience. Of course, she remembered Lyanna's words, and she had ensured that she could fake all aspects of maidenhood, especially since Jaime had been gone for so many months. Still, she didn't want to betray Rhaegar, even by omission. But it was too late, and she wouldn't take back those hours with Jaime. He was her twin, her other half, they belonged together… at least, before she was Queen.

"I would appreciate that, my Lord…" She murmured, her worries making her voice sound more fearful. She didn't mind, it was effective for persuading him against this. Cersei was a lioness, she wouldn't cringe, but the thought of all those eyes on her flesh was off putting to say the least, and the last thing she wanted was hands that weren't Rhaegar's (or Jaime's) touching her.

Hearing that fear made Rhaegar frown, and he pressed a tender kiss to her hair. "Then you shall have it. I promise you, once you're my Queen you will have anything you could ever ask for." She smiled softly and wished to kiss him, kiss him for giving her everything she had ever wanted, and could ever want. But that would have to wait for tomorrow. 

"Thank you, my King," she whispered instead, and offered him one of her soft, adoring smiles. At first she had kept those to a minimum, wanting to seem more sophisticated, but she wasn't putting on a face anymore.

Her soft, sultry smiles had been growing on him, but sometimes it was nice, if jarring, to be reminded of her innocence. Cersei was only 16 though she seemed much older, and Rhaegar often forgot that she could still be the young girl he once saw around court. But occasionally it was nice to see, and especially on such a night as this. It only reinforced his desire to protect her, even from something as simple as an old custom. And besides, having waited so long to see the flesh that lay beneath her intricate gowns and corsets, the baser side of him didn't want other Lords to see her before he did. His Queen. His Cersei.

"You should sleep," he hummed after an extended silence. "We'll both need our rest for tomorrow." He knew she was as eager as he, even if a maiden. It was obvious to see he… affected her when he spoke a certain way, or caressed her hand and waist as he was now. "I'll walk you to your chambers, my Lady of Lannister."

"Targaryen tomorrow," Cersei hummed, her soft smile turning cheeky as she leaned into him. "I'll be trading one crimson cloak for another." She couldn't hide the excitement at his touch and the prospect from her voice, but she did mask the yawn as they walked.

He hummed, glancing over at her and kissing her hair as he so often did lately. "Hmm. Yes, you'll be the Dragon's Queen. But you'll still be a Lioness. I don't think I would ever try to take that from you, how fierce you can be."

The King remembered well Cersei's anger at the destruction of the ships at Lannisport, out matching her father's significantly. It had been unequalled until he had opted to lead an attack, and a raven had come saying he was injured mildly. The raven the soon-to-be-Queen sent back had given the maester a good fright, and Rhaegar a much needed laugh. Cersei was so fierce, sometimes. His Visenya, his warrior queen. He had often entertained the idea of giving her a sword again and teaching her to fight, just for laughs, and because he knew her father would never approve. A more sentimental part of him knew it would please his Queen just as much as any golden treasure would. And Rhaegar adored the softer, rarer side of her as much if not more than her ferocity. Sometimes he felt it could slip away if he didn't cultivate it, for she often seemed to find fault in things, a reason to struggle, to wall herself off when all he wanted was to see that little glimmer of vulnerability. Of his vows the coming day, among those spoken were many he promised silently. That he would never hurt her as Aerys had his Queen. That he would give her everything in his power to give her and more. That he would treasure her. And that he would strive to show her the love that made that softer part of her stronger.

Of course, his feelings were not purely sentimental, and he wasn't entirely the white knight of the songs. In his mind was always the prophecy, the need for three heads of the dragon. He wanted to right the wrongs of his father, and for that he needed children. But Cersei was young, and healthy, and of strong blood. She was not sickly as Elia recently had become, nor as fertile as Catelyn Tully, but he didn't doubt that she could prove to be. It was a complicated act, on his part, for he had come to love and care for her, and did not wish to treat her or think of her as a broodmare. But at the same time, he needed to get children on her, for his own selfish ends.

Their arrival at her door pulled the King out of his thoughts, and he smiled softly at the woman by his side. "And here is where I leave you, m'lady," he smirked, kissing her hand. "Tonight, anyway. Tomorrow we will see your new chambers, hmm?'

He watched Cersei push back a strand of her golden hair and smile softly at him, the same mirth reflected back in her emerald eyes. "Yes, I suppose we shall won't we? And you, my King, need to sleep as well." she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Get some rest, Rhaegar." Though a full six years younger than him, he forgot their difference entirely in moments like this and smiled, laughing for a moment.

"Yes, I confess I am tired as well. Though I have less preparations in the morrow than you do, my dear." He winked, "I will see you in the Sept."

She nodded, giving his hand a final squeeze before slipping into her rooms and letting the handmaidens remove her dress, the soft thuds of Rhaegar's step echoing as he walked down the great hall to his own chambers.

Despite Cersei's soft order the night before, Rhaegar hardly slept a wink in the night. Each time he went to close his eyes he saw his father's face. He had to keep reminding himself he wasn't Aerys, that he wouldn't be. But his father had been a good man in the beginning, a good king and a good husband, as Lord Husbands went, anyway. That was how Targaryens were though, wasn't it? They all went mad… He was determined to end that, taking a bride well outside the bloodline, but he couldn't shake the fear that he would become his father. The previous King's ghost swam to his vision and laughed, and burnt, and cursed him for what he had done. The tears of Lys would have been enough to make it look as though his father passed of old age, but Rhaegar knew better. And even if Aerys died with Jaime Lannister's sword in his back, the Prince had approved it.

When the King finally did manage to sleep, his dreams soured and he would startle awake with screams echoing in his ears. First his mother's, and then those he imagined would be Cersei's, if he ever did become like his father. He hated that he could picture his lioness bruised and battered, simpering like his mother had toward the end. That wouldn't be him. If anything, he would bring her brother back to the keep, to protect his Queen. As dishonourable as the kingslayer had proved to be, Rhaegar knew they feared the same things. Jaime had looked in Rhaella's eyes and seen Cersei reflected back at him.

Once he did get up, the King found himself swept up into the wedding preparations, entertaining and directing and only catching scant glimpses of his bride. Maybe it was for the better, with the current state of his nerves. Cersei would pick up on it right away, and he liked to think he had come to know her well enough to know she would find a way to find the fault in herself.

The last thing he wanted today was an embittered Cersei Lannister.

In the whirl of the day Rhaegar couldn't help but laugh at the sheer amount of silver, gold, and above all crimson strewn about the Red Keep. He had said to spare no expense (debt would be owed to the Lannister's after all, and he was marrying a Lannister), and obviously whoever had been in charge of decorating had taken that notion to heart. Every table for the feast was swathed in deep red, and there were more house sigils then he had ever seen clustered about the place. Not to mention that the smallfolk had taken to calling theirs the joining of silver and gold, a theme certainly carried over in the decor. However, the massive tapestry of a dragon coiled around a lioness was certainly his favourite, and he had already resolved to keep it hung in its place, and to move the smaller duplicate to the new Queen's chambers. That's what he wanted to be, the one who protected his queen and the realm. A boyish fantasy, to some extent, but not an implausible one.

Once things settled, slightly, he made his way to the Sept, regarding the amassed crowd inside with a small, quiet smile. Grinning wasn't Kingly, and he wouldn't grin at the entire city's population and more gathered to watch his marriage. They spilled over into the surrounding area and he found it all rather uncomfortable and ridiculous. He was the King, and a man of 22, he shouldn't be so nervous to be in front of them like this.

He chose to go in a litter to the Sept of Baelor, he and Cersei would ride back later on matching horses. He thought that Cersei would like that more than in a carriage like was more customary. He had had a white horse identical to his own brought for his bride, and he intended to surprise her. Already the streets were filling with onlookers and it was almost impossible to move through the square while a line of gold cloaks kept the crowd at bay. The crowd would only increase as the hours went on.

When he reached the great Sept he entered by the main entrance and blushed as a great cheer went up for the King. He knew that somewhere within the towers of the Sept Cersei was prepared so that when she was revealed to the public in her gown, he would be with her. Really, he wished he could already see her, and know what splendor she had wrapped herself in.

Within the first set of doors stood two members of the Kingsguard. Rhaegar acknowledged them as he stood waiting for the doors to swing open. His feet tapped against the stones, the fresh leather boots on his feet still slightly uncomfortable, but the fidgeting was more do to his nerves than anything. Ser Barristan appeared at his side and handed him the cloak of black and red that he would use to claim Cersei as his own. He examined the delicate embroidery of his great sigil. He couldn't wait to see Cersei draped in his color, as fearful as he had been of his father's legacy, there was something inexplicably right in her becoming his. And him becoming hers.

When the inner doors opened he made his way down the center aisle to stand between the altars of the Mother and Father. He bowed low to the High Septon and turned to watch the doors through which he had just entered. A hushed silence had fallen over the group as they waited to see the future queen. After a minute the doors swung open and there stood Cersei.

Of course, he'd expected her to wear red. In fact, the only time he hadn't seen Cersei in red was when she'd worn a blue dress he liked and had made for her, after the end of the rebellion. He still liked the red dresses better. Of all of them though, this was something else entirely.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, the crimson fabric matching the Lannister cloak draped over her shoulders, the gold of the embroidery matching her hair, pulled back halfway and in a complex twist on the top of her head, exposing her elegant neck and the slightest hint of cleavage formed by the corset's bodice. He'd seen her in one of two dresses that accentuated her figure, and yet somehow she looked completely different. In a odd way he admired the way the embroidered silks (lions and dragons, upon closer inspection) flowed around her as she walked toward him, pooling behind her in a blood-like train. Perfectly befitting his warrior queen, his Visenya.

The rest of the ceremony Rhaegar spent in a haze, his eyes never leaving Cersei's as the high Septon droned on. His own vows echo in his head over the more traditional ones, and he keeps her hand in his devotedly. To many of the lords in the inner chamber of the sept it may seem odd that he and Cersei seemed so comfortable with each other. Many of them had never found comfort with their spouses, but Rhaegar couldn't be happier with his bride. He didn't envy those like Ned Stark, who had married his brother's bride scant weeks after Brandon's demise. They were still awkward with each other, even with a child soon between them. But he and Cersei were lucky enough to have already gotten the chance to get acquainted in all the ways but one. And soon enough, they would know each other every way a husband and wife should.

For all the ceremony and the crowd amassed, the wedding itself felt intimate somehow. The final words were spoken and he smiled, brighter than many in attendance had ever seen him smile before. Softly he brushed his hands over the crimson and gold shrouding Cersei's slim shoulders. Given that she was taller than many of the other ladies he didn't have to bend too much to pull the Lannister cloak off of her and hand it to Ser Barristan at his side.

The Sept was silent as the King lifted the black and red cloak and swung it with a flourish to drape over her shoulders. The rich fabric fell over her hair, and that bothered him, so Rhaegar gently leaned closer to her and eased the curtain of silken curls from underneath the fabric, so they offset the Targaryen colors with a bit of Lannister gold. He was aware of the eyes on them as he fastened her new cloak, his face a breath from hers.

Traditionally, it would be Rhaegar's responsibility to lean in and place an appropriately chaste kiss on Cersei's painted lips. But the new Queen had other plans, and before he could properly process it, Rhaegar felt her small hands pulling him to her, and her warm lips on his own. It was not an entirely unwelcome surprise, and he responded eagerly. Their kiss was not especially chaste. At first he let her control it, mildly surprised by the assurance conveyed in her movements and the hand she slid into his silver hair. But after a moment he collected himself enough to press more ardently against her, his lips and tongue and teeth playing with her own. They were lost in each other, until he felt a tap on his shoulder and came back to his sense, pulling away from her. Only then did the noise that had sprung up in the Sept be heard, and a whooping cheer from Lord Baratheon. Rhaegar was glad he was too immersed in his bride to attune to the words. Cersei seemed equally pleased, and her hand had at some point slipped into his, holding it rather firmly.

"Shall we make our escape?" He whispered into her ear, not waiting for her reply as the Septon announced her as the new Queen. Rhaegar gave her a moment, noticing the pure delight seeping even deeper into her eyes, before he gestured to the door. "I have a surprise for you, my Queen…"

Cersei managed to look at him just at the right moment, for she missed the thundering of the horses hooves and the entrance of the two white horses, one with a silver saddle and the other gold, into the Sept. He grinned; kissing her again softly (the Lords and Ladies were distracted now. And soon he could and would kiss her all he liked) and spinning her around. "I figured a litter was too plain for my lioness. Can you guess which is yours?"

"It's hardly a guess," Cersei murmured, leading them to the horses. Her fingers brushed over the gilding on the golden saddle. She smiled softly at the symbol, the dragon curled around the lion. It was mirrored on Rhaegar's white gold saddle, and she turned to him. "These must have taken ages to do."

"Months, my love." He hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist as they stood between the two beasts. "But I had the time, and I figured you would appreciate a unique exit. And we should exit before the crowd grows too anxious…" He kissed her neck just above his family's cloak. "May I help you up?"

She nodded, a bright smile on her lips. "I do appreciate it." She stepped closer to her horse, the larger of the two she noted with a small upward quirk of her lips, a disguised smirk. Rhaegar's hands moved to her waist, and she let him lift her, and then use his hands as a brace for her to get settled. As much as she would have wished it, the dress didn't permit her to sit like a man, so she sat proper as she watched him swing up gracefully. The Targaryen colors fanned out over the back of her horse, and they both looked quite regal. The red of her gown and his jerkin matched, and contrasted beautifully with the white of their horses. She admired her new husband's aesthetic taste even more.

"You look far too pleased with yourself," Rhaegar hummed, smirking over at her. "Or is it with me?"

"Guess, my King…"

"Me of course." He grinned, though the teasing glint in his eyes told her it was far more than his arrogance. If anything, the King was far less arrogant than most of his vassal Lords. At first she'd been amused, and then briefly disconcerted, but once she realized he projected the image, and got to know the real Rhaegar, she fell for him like the songs.

Their exit, and the roar that greeted them cut off her clever reply. She had never seen the city so alive with people, the street around the Sept nearly impassable, save the gold cloaks forcibly parting the crowds to clear a path for their horses. The people still crowded around them and a few reached to touch the skirt of her dress. Her father would have been utterly disappointed, but Cersei loved the adoration and her smile was a radiant as her gilded saddle. Rhaegar divided his attentions between their path and her, but when it widened out enough in the square, the King rode up beside his queen, their horses falling into step as they wove through the crowd. Cersei had never felt this level of adoration, and she smiled brightly at her new husband. All along the remainder of the ride between the sept and the castles seaside gardens, hands reached for their horses and their hands, caressed the gilded embroidery of the Targaryen cape. She saw Rhaegar chuckle.

It was almost a disappointment when they arrived at the garden, gorgeous and crimson as they were. She'd never seen so much red in her entire life, even between growing up in the Red Keep and Casterly Rock. She knew, of course, that the fact that black was missing from the decor was significant, that Rhaegar wanted the kingdoms to know that this was their wedding. The banners that hung about the grounds weren't his house banners, but those he had had made to represent the joining of their two houses, the Dragon and his Lioness. She smiled, lost in a bit of a daze until she felt Rhaegar's hands guide her off the horse and onto the ground, lifting her easily about her waist.

"You'll have plenty of time to ogle the gardens in a moment, my Queen," He teased her, always teasing her, and brushed a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "Though now we have a reprieve from being mobbed with our guests, and I'd rather like to kiss my bride. Properly this time."

Of course he didn't mean properly. Their kiss in the Sept had been barely proper, and the kiss he placed on her now was no such thing. Not that Cersei minded. Her hand clutched in his doublet as he cupped her jaw, sending shivers down her spine and pulling her closer. A soft sort of whimper left her throat as she melted against his lips, only to be answered by a cough from behind her.

"My Lord," A polite voice murmured, stepping just into the periphery of Cersei's view. "I think it would be best you and the Queen took your places now, before the guests start arriving. I would hate for you to be caught in a position such as this by someone less discrete." Varys had that slim smirk on his face that had made him the most terrifying person in the Keep, at least in Cersei's childhood memory. It was still rather terrifying now, but she was the Queen now, she didn't need to concern herself with his gossip (her father would say otherwise, but how could kissing her husband after her wedding be anything to be worried about?).

Rhaegar must have felt similarly, for he moved his arm to wrap around Cersei's waist and chuckled. "And what position would that be?" She watched his violet eyes twinkled with mirth as he pinched her waist, leading her up the dais to their lofted table. "Is it so wrong for a man to kiss his wife?"

Cersei blushed, though her gaze stayed on Varys, defiant. She was still a lioness, and proud to be standing beside the King, as the Queen. Nor would she be the simpering submissive wife beside him. Instead, in a moment of bravery she leaned out of her seat and kissed Rhaegar once more, just as deeply. "It's not wrong for a wife to kiss her husband either is it?" She murmured with a smirk, brushing her thumb over his lip and sitting up, just in time to avoid being seen by her father as he joined them at the table.

"Lord Tywin," The king nodded, smiling at his good father as the high tables filled in. Or Cersei's side anyway. There weren't enough Targaryen's left to fill any tables, the only family he had not present at the feast. It wasn't a place for children as young as Viserys and Daenarys. Particularly the later, who was only a few months old. Motherless now, though Rhaegar hoped Cersei could fill in in some way for the girl's mother. She hadn't had a mother past her Seventh nameday, certainly she knew how it felt to yearn for family.

But that was a discussion for another time.

"Darling?" He heard Cersei's crisp voice murmur to his right, and he offered her a slight smile. "There you are. You were staring at your wine…"

"Just thinking." He promised, giving her hand a squeeze beneath the table.

Her answering gentle smile was one he rarely saw, a sort of bemused quirk of her lips. He preferred her smirks, admittedly. "About, my King?"

"You of course," You, and my sister, and the family line, as always, he thought, but the placid smile stayed in place, only the glimmer of his eyes dimmed. It was unfair, wasn't it? To marry her and crown her without telling her what he needed from her. But he'd come to love her, all of her, and he needed her. He only feared he'd put her in a cage without her knowledge, and that he'd change, and she's still be there, unable to leave him. He watched her smile morph into a pleased smirk, pushing the worry aside.

Lords and Ladies come up to congratulate them, and after a while the faces blur. Cersei realized that Rhaegar was right, she had plenty of time to study the decor as yet another pitiful minstrel sang for them, the same sort of tawdry romantic tune. Her king saw her saw and clapped, cutting off the bard and gesturing him closer so he could pay him. "Are you bored?" He whispered, as if it was the most indelicate thing.

"Even you must grow tired of that," She huffed, earning a warning look from her father at her petulance. "Plus I'm a bit starved," she added, hoping to excuse her complaints.

"You? Hungry? You rarely eat anything at our suppers, Cersei," Rhaegar grinned, and she just rolled her eyes, "Oh you are hungry. Well, we can't have that." In a very unkingly move, he stood up and walked to the end of the table, grabbing the bread that had been sitting in front of her brother and placing it in front of her. Needless to say, the servants scrambled back to get their food.

For a moment Cersei just stared at him, and then she laughed softly, shaking her head. "Was that really necessary?" She murmured, knowing a good number of their guests had chuckled at her husband's display, "It would have been far easier to ask a servant…"

"But far less fun," He winked at her, and she thought she might have to kiss him again right there. "Besides, Cersei, we're the King and Queen, no one is going to get us in trouble."

Both their eyes flicked to Tywin for a moment, and they chuckled softly. "Well, at least he can't send you home." Rhaegar hummed, taking the basket of bread and breaking a piece off for her, adding a healthy amount of the grapefruit spread he'd discovered she enjoyed to the slice before feeding it to her.

From the second table Lyanna Baratheon chuckled, nudging her husband. For once he wasn't too terribly drunk, and behaving like the adorable sod she had fallen for as a girl. "Look at them. How soon do you expect he'll get a child on her?"

Robert glanced at the King, still feeding his smirking Queen bits of sweetened bread. Instead of replying he stared for a moment and let out a booming laugh. "This isn't Dorne, my Lord, though you do have good taste." He raised his glass in a mock toast.

Lyanna's smile fell as the surrounding Lords and Ladies laughed, including Rhaegar and Cersei, if you could call her polite chuckle a laugh. She got up after a moment and walked up to the high table, carrying her gift for the Queen. "Well, I apologize, My King, but I assumed you'd be so inundated with gifts I only brought one for your bride," she smiled brightly at Cersei, the two of them having become close friends in the past year since Harrenhall. "And I'm sure Robert meant no offense by his comment… it appears he's already gotten well into his cups."

Cersei laughed, a real one this time, Lyanna happened to know. "Any other day I would have been offended, Lady Lyanna… though today we can let it pass," she smiled briefly at the king.

"I suppose I should be grateful for that," she chuckled, handing Cersei the brightly wrapped package. "I wouldn't open that here…"

The Queen's brows rose almost comically, her naivety showing crystal clear. Though Lyanna knew Cersei was not a maid, she had had the pleasure of enlightening her on quite a few things in their conversations, and they had often made a joke of it. "Ah… I see. Thank you?"

Both Rhaegar and Lyanna laughed, earning them one of Cersei's customary petulant scowls. "Both of you, really?" She huffed, hiding a pout.

"You'll like it. Both of you will." Lyanna grinned, taking the Queen's hand for a moment, "I'm not trying to embarrass you. My husband accomplished that for the both of us."

"I noticed," Cersei smiled, setting the gift next to her chair. "Thank you, anyway."

Lyanna nodded, giving her closest friend's hand a squeeze before she returned back to her table, leaving the King and Queen to the numerous other gifts and guests.

After a while the gifts wore on, and even Rhaegar was growing tired, and hungry for the feast that was to come (Cersei had eaten all the bread but the single piece she fed to him, despite how tight he knew her dress was). He did his best to smile genuinely at each Lord and Lady, and thank them for each token or parcel they received. It wasn't until Jon Connington stood in front of him, with a long, silk wrapped package, that both he and Cersei's attention was refocused. The man had always displayed an admiration for the King, an obsession that Cersei had half a mind to be threatened about in fact, but their interest wasn't on the man himself, but rather the object in his hands.

"My silver prince," Jon murmured, "And our new Queen, Cersei," he bowed, but Cersei's jaw worked at the disdain for her in his in his voice. "I think it fitting for you to have a true King's sword, My Lord."

Rhaegar stood, hurriedly but not impolitely so, and dropped his wife's hand to pick up the wrapped object. His slim fingers hurried over the silk and pulled it back, and a grin lit up his face. "Valyrian… Where on earth did you find a Valyrian steel sword?" He held it up, his queen ducking slightly to avoid his arm.

"I had this one fresh forged, my King. A new sword for a new era."

Rhaegar was silent a moment, torn between awe at the weapon and the weight of his father's rule behind him. "Thank you, Lord Connington. It's quite the weapon. And I do believe it needs a name…?" He glanced not a Jon but at Cersei, showing her the blade.

He knew that she felt threatened by a gift like the sword, and that underneath the strong exterior she presented, his new Queen was still sometimes fragile girl of but 16 years. He didn't want her to think that she was less important to him than a sword, no matter how magnificent the weapon.

Evidently the crowd didn't interpret or see his gesture, as shouts came up from all ends of the courtyard. Some were good suggestions, he was partial to those of Silverfyre and Skysfall, though he waited, watching his queens brows dip in concentration. Valyrian swords were objects of a family line, to be passed down for centuries, though many had been lost. And though the sword would continue down the Targaryen line, he and Cersei were the one's to further it, of course he wanted her input.

"Eastern Sun," She murmured after a moment, smiling softly up at him. They were both intelligent enough that she didn't need to explain the fairly straightforward name. Targaryens of the east, Lannisters of the sunny west. He also knew that Cersei was often referred to as the Light of the West, and smiled softly.

"Eastern Sun." He echoed, only louder, so their guests would hear. He held the sword out a moment longer before returning it to it's sheath and taking his seat once more. He brought Cersei's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. "I've taken the light right out of the west," he teased softly, smiling over at her, "They'll need a new sun."

The rest of the gifts flew by, and by the time the feast was laid, all the guests were too starved to wait long. Evidently the King was much beloved by his people, though there were a surprising number of gifts for his Queen. Rhaegar smiled as they stood, stepping to the center of the dais before lifting Eastern Sun, and cleanly cleaving the top off the pigeon pie. The doves flew out to the cheers of the crowd, and soon enough he was happy to have a bite of that pie in his mouth. And then several more.

The King and Queen kept to themselves after that, huddled in behind the high table. At least this time their feeding of each other was expected, and escaped Robert's gaze.

As the sun set over the gardens, the Lords and Ladies began to grow restless, and the celebrations moved into the Keep, the hall decked out richly in the same colors as the gardens. There was dancing and drinking (though both Rhaegar and Cersei were kept from too much wine by her father. Wedding night or not, a certain level of decorum was expected.), and after another few hours of revelry, calls for the bedding.

Cersei bristled; hiding it behind a contrived bashful smile, hoping Rhaegar would keep his promise from the night before. The last thing she wanted was to be manhandled by Lyanna's brute of a husband or groped by men older than her father.

But thankfully, Rhaegar just chuckled. "I've deciding against a Bedding Ceremony, my lords. She is my Queen, after all, and as I've waited over a year to wed her, I'll not wait a moment longer to bed her."

That got him a look from Tywin, but Cersei was too busy chuckling as he scooped her into his arms, kissing her brow as he walked from the hall, ignoring the jovial protests of their guests. "Thank you," she laughed quietly, surprised he kept carrying her, through the keep.

"I promised, didn't I?" Rhaegar hummed, slightly more serious than he had been before.

She nodded, not sure how to interpret his demeanor now that the face he put on for the festivities was off. "Yes, you did. And I am grateful…" she reached up and cupped his cheek, her fingers brushing his ear. "My King."

"My Queen," He smiled down at her, his violet eyes pensive as they so often were, boring into her. They didn't speak further on the way to her new chambers (theirs, she hoped), and a small thrill went through her as he laid her on the bed.

Cersei stared up at him as he undressed her slowly, undoing the laces of her corset first, his nimble fingers loosening the ties between her breasts easily. He didn't touch her, yet, he didn't do more than pull the corset gently from her and then begin to peel away the layers of her gown, as if he was unwrapping a gift. She was afraid to speak, with him staring at her like that.

He wasn't Jaime. Nor was he the beast Lyanna had warned her about. Rhaegar was somehow more pensive in the bedchamber than ever, considering her like a piece of art. Her hands went up to carefully undo his doublet, and though she'd undress a man before, her hesitance wasn't feigned. Her slim fingers shook and he stilled her hand, the Queen only in her slip with the King staring down at her.

"Cersei?" He caressed her fingers, "There's nothing to be nervous about…" His voice was soft, softer than she'd been taught to expect, and he knelt in front of her, tilting her jaw tenderly so he could kiss her again.

Her lips moved against his easily, and she continued to undress him, her hands finally resting on the bare skin of his chest when she pulled back for air. "I'm not nervous," she murmured, a semblance of her traditional pride in her voice, "I trust you. I love you."

She did too. Over a year was time enough for her to be sure of that, and for her to invest a part of herself in him she'd never thought she'd give to anyone, even when she'd been promised the Prince.

His touch was still soft as he guided her back onto the bed, and softer still as he slid his hands up her sides, removing her small clothes while he kissed her neck, sending shivers down her spine. His hands ran over her bare chest and she gasped, blinking her eyes open without realizing she had shut them. Rhaegar wasn't Jaime, he knew how to touch her in ways her brother still fumbled with, his hands were rougher, but more skilled.

He kissed her again and she forgot about Jaime, immersed in her royal husband's touch.

Cersei had been prepared to fake maidenhood, terrified that he would catch her in her lie, but with the way he was kissing her and caressing her, there was no way she could pretend to find any of this uncomfortable. Besides, she hadn't had her brother in a year, and being with the King, her King, was intimidating enough for her to easily seem naive and inexperienced. Rhaegar's lips left her own and traveled down her neck, making her mewl softly and shiver despite the heat of the room and the summer night. "It's alright," he whispered into the valley between her breasts, making her arch beneath him in delight. His hands ran over her chest, her waist, her hips, her thighs, and he kissed down to her navel with a soft hum. "I won't hurt you."

She wanted to tell him not to worry, that she trusted him, but she didn't know how to say it without sounding suspicious. Instead she nodded, her eyes barely open, just enough to watch his silver head move lower.

He kissed each of her hipbones, and then the flat of her stomach between them, before pulling up and kissing her lips again. "Cersei…" He breathed against her lips, and the sound of her name in that velvet voice made her moan softly, finally moving. Her hands tangled in his hair, pressing him to her and parting her lips, inviting him to kiss her deeper, to taste her mouth again. She wanted him, she needed him, and she could feel the press of him against her thigh that meant he needed her just as much.

"Yes…" she whispered, pulling back and panting from the kiss. "Yes… yes… please Rhaegar." It was almost a whimpered plea, and evidently all the assurance the King needed.

Lyanna had told her more than her Septas had and more than she'd learned from being with Jaime about how men bed their wives. Of course, Robert was one example of a husband, but the stories Lyanna had told her had often soured her hopes for her own wedding night. Falsely, as she was now learning.

Rhaegar smiled softly at her words, kissing her again and cupping her cheek as he hovered over her, making her look at him. Cersei was used to be in charge, but this was blissful somehow, and she only closed his eyes at the first press of him into her. Part acting part honest adjustment, she winced slightly and let out a slow breath, surprised when he stilled and waited for her to nod and pull his head down for another kiss.

He didn't bed her quickly, and he never stopped being gentle with her. Every touch was more about her than about him, his eyes never leaving hers until she arched under him and tilted her head back so he could nip at her neck. it was perhaps over the top, how much he wanted her to enjoy this. But he'd grown up in his father's shadow and was hell-bent to be the opposite of everything he was. That included how he treated his wife. Cersei would be his Queen as well as the realms, and he wanted her to feel that way. Even as he neared his edge he held off, watching her, wanting her to feel as good as he felt. Kissing her deeply again, he ran his hand to where they were joined and teased her, moaning as she bucked into his hand and broke the kissed to gasp.

"Cersei…" He groaned, feeling her tongue trace his teeth experimentally and her body clamp down around him more."Cersei…" He rolled his hips faster; close to his release and hoping she was nearing hers.

His patience was rewarded a moment later when his bride suddenly went rigid below him and let out a high cry, her nails digging into his back and her hips bucking wildly. He'd been with enough women before to know she had reached her pleasure, and with a few deep thrusts he buried his face in her neck and his release deep within her.

The King didn't move for several minutes, panting into her neck and feeling her hips roll softly against his as she hummed, her eyes closed and her hands caressing his back. His weight had to be crushing her slim frame though, and reluctantly he rolled them onto their sides, pulling the Queen to his chest. There was silence in the bedchamber for a while, the distant sounds of the end of the revelry in the grounds and the great hall coming in through the open window. Finally, Rhaegar spoke.

"Cersei? I need to tell you something. And I need to ask you something."

His voice was soft but her heart practically seized in her chest, and her emerald eyes snapped open. "What is it? Rhaegar?" She whispered after reigning in her worries.

He swallowed. "You know… of my father's cruelties. I promise I will never be cruel to you like that, in bed or otherwise. I am not my father. But I do...I need something of you."

"Anything," she promised and he wanted to tell her never to promise him that. "Anything, my lord."

"What do you know of prophecy?" He asked softly, his hand resting on the small of her back, thumbing over the pale gold of her skin.

There was a brief flash of confusion across his bride's brow, and her expression tightened into a thin line. "What do you mean, Rhaegar?"

He sighed, looking to the wall behind her with a resigned expression. "There is a prophecy, about my family. 'The Prince that was Promised' it's called. The savior that will come." After a moment his eyes drifted to her emerald ones. "The Dragon must have three heads, Cersei, three heads born of the blood of the Dragon."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Cersei…" The King swallowed, 'The Targaryen line has weakened over the centuries. The practice of marrying brother to sister has created far too much madness in the family. My father…" he sighed and shook his head. "But you're not of the blood. Not to offend you my Queen. I need you, to be my Visenya, my warrior Queen, and to give the dragon it's three heads, of purer blood, untainted blood."

He watched Cersei's jaw work, and her eyes darken in the dim light. "You mean three children. Just say what you mean, my lord. I know my place, as your _wife. _And I fully intend to fulfill my duties and bare your children, please do not assume me so naive as to forget the principal duty of a Queen. Three is hardly too much to ask… though I'm still unsure of what exactly you're asking me."

"I'm not asking anything more than that.I just mean to tell you that despite my motive for marrying you, despite my need for a wife as strong as the Lioness of House Lannister, I desire to be a good husband to you. You will make a fine Queen, Cersei, and a fine wife. I hope to be as good a King and husband to you."

"But?" Her voice was a fearful murmur, and he knew then that she didn't expect to receive such kindness from him so soon, or at least now that he had her and was no longer courting her.

He shook his head and cupped her cheeks carefully. "My lady. Have I ever given you reason to doubt my affections for you? I joke, yes, and I delight in teasing you, but I hope I have never shown cause for you to fear me, or expect me to hurt you."

Cersei swallowed, looking away for him like a shy child, an expression he'd never seen before on her. "No. No of course not, my lord." The title was starting to grate on his nerves. "You've been nothing but kind to me in the last year, and since we first met I have enjoyed every moment with you. However… I've heard how men change with their wives, and I admit I was surprised by your… kindness tonight."

"You shouldn't be surprised." Rhaegar sighed. "I promise you I will always be kind to you, and respect you. You need not fear me, and you needn't call me My lord. Especially not here."

Cersei nodded, a small smile forming on her lips as she kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Rhaegar… But, you said you had something to ask me?"

There was an awkward moment of silence between them, both looking at the other and then looking away. Rhaegar kept his hand at her back so she couldn't move away from him, fearful of what her response would be to his question. Many would be offended… and he wasn't sure what he hoped her reaction would be. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know. "Were you truly a maid, before tonight?"

Cersei gaped at him. She looked the worst possible mixture between aghast, hurt, and guilty. He sighed. "It won't change anything. I meant every word I spoke to you, I just hope that you enjoyed this night as much as whoever you had before. I won't ask who."

She blinked for a moment and closed her mouth. The awkward silence stretched out for another few minutes until she spoke. "More. I enjoyed it more. I… I apologize My lor- Rhaegar, for…" she stumbled over her words for once, "I… I don't know how to explain… but… oh by seven." she huffed, covering her face with her hands and pressing her fingers to her eyes, stalling the tears that threatened to spill.

"Cersei…" he took her hands in his and guided them back. "Look at me. You don't need to explain. I only hope that whoever he was, he treated you with the care you deserve. And if someone hurt you-"

"It wasn't that. No. None hurt me."

He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply again. "Thank the Seven. That's all I wanted to know. You may sleep now."

"Will you stay with me?" She smiled at him and he chuckled, nodding.

"Of course. Go to sleep, my Queen."


	4. Living Our Way Young

"So, how was it being wed and bed, as your husband so eloquently put it last night?" Lyanna asked Cersei, treating her the same though the woman was now her Queen. Propriety was not something the Northern woman had much of. They were walking through the southernmost part of the castle gardens, where the grounds sloped toward the sea and the stone cliffs mellowed the sounds of another day's festivities. It was a beautiful place, and not for the first time Lyanna envied her friend. If her husband was anything in private like appeared in public, she was very lucky indeed.

She watched the Queen at her side smile fondly, almost privately. "It was...not what you had told me to expect. Not at all. He was so _kind. _He... I'm not sure it's proper to say all that he did, but he did not rush, and he put my pleasure first."

"Kind?"

"Yes, terribly kind… I… He… I hardly expected anything like that." Cersei wasn't used to stumbling over her words, but something about the King and the newness of it all made her tongue twist in her mouth. She had known kindness, love, and adoration with Jaime of course, but… somehow it was different. Each man was, perhaps. "He promised that he wouldn't hurt me, Lyanna."

The other woman was silent, an odd mixture of surprise, envy, and ambivalence on her pale features. Whereas Cersei was lit with the sun and her joy with her new husband, Lyanna's northern pallor had greyed in her time at Storm's End. "That's certainly something to be grateful for then," she finally murmured, "You seem to have gotten your knight after all, just like in the songs."

Cersei looked at her for a moment and then down at the ground, regretting her exuberance over the subject. Of course, her happiness with her husband and the gentleness of her bedding was not reflected in Lyanna's marriage. She hadn't meant to irk the other woman, or to brag. But she was delighted to finally have Rhaegar, to have had him, and for him to have been so gentle in the act. Besides, she was the Queen now. And not only that. Her King loved her as much as she did him. "Lyanna, I didn't mean to boast, I won't mention it again."

"I know, Cersei." She sighed, "I _am _happy for you, truly, and I would not wish a marriage like mine upon you, nor am I unhappy that the king was kind to you. If anything I am glad that you were right about him." She sighed and shook her head, taking a seat on a bench facing the sea.

The Queen sat next to her, her hands primly in her lap and her lips still drawn in a thin line. Most around her had come to know that that line masked the Lioness's internal conflict. Cersei sighed and ran a hand through her golden mane, before returning her hands to the crimson fabric of her dress. "I am happy as well, obviously. He could tell, I think, that I was terribly nervous. I expected him to be like you said…" _Like Robert was. _

"Be glad he wasn't. But, if I may, how was your _acting _my Queen?" Her tone turned jovial and she smirked.

Cersei blushed, nearly the red of her dress, and glanced at her hands. "I barely had to act at all. I was as nervous and shy as a maiden could be, with him. And," she lowered her voice slightly, embarrassed and wanting to ensure that they weren't overheard. Thankfully, no one was minding them today, the guards watching the entrances to the courtyard on the bluff above them rather than the Queen herself, and the sea drowned out the sound of their voices. She continued with a blush. "It did _hurt_, at first, more than I expected. It wasn't entirely unpleasant… merely… uncomfortable at first. I think…" her blush deepened, "He must have been bigger than I had had before."

Lyanna glanced at her friend and her Queen in surprise for a moment and chuckled softly, breaking into indelicate laughter after a second. "Oh my darling girl," she shook her head, "you still know so little."

That earned her a glare from Cersei. "I recall you said that once a man put his cloak around my shoulder and promised to protect me, I was no longer a child. I can assure you, Rhaegar has made that promise, so do stop patronizing me."

"I'm hardly patronizing you," she laughed, rolling her eyes, "though I imagine it made it easier to pretend you still had your maidenhead. Did you bleed?"

Cersei blushed yet again, shaking her head. "I …I did as we planned. He never suspected." She felt bad, in a way, lying to her closest friend and confidant, and yet it was nice to have this secret with her new husband. She had never _actually _broken her skin to fake her bleeding. Instead she had woken to the pleasant feeling of Rhaegar kissing the side of her neck, his fingers running through her hair gently. She had never woken up like that with Jaime, nor did she imagine she could have, with the weight of their secret and the fear of being caught. He smiled when he felt her stir slightly, murmuring a quiet good morning into her hair. She had returned it, and rolled onto her other side facing him, allowing him to kiss her softly. The King, it seemed, was not the most fond of soft kisses, and soon he was claiming her mouth, his hands sliding over her breasts, ribs, and stomach, making her giggle far too childishly. He didn't seem to care, smiling delightedly up at her and nibbling her lip. It would have been a lovely moment, if not for the entry and subsequent traumatization of several of the Queen's young handmaidens. Evidently, they had not expected the King to stay over, let alone to be nipping at his wife's collarbone in the morning. The girl's had scattered, and both Cersei and Rhaegar had stared at the door for a second before collapsing into awkward laughter. After a moment he had quieted and smiled over at her. "Well, now that our morning has been so rudely cut short… I believe there's a small matter we need to attend to?" He had arched a brow and Cersei had been fully prepared to cut her hand or her thigh to get the blood needed, but Rhaegar had scoffed and refused to even let her near the knife. "Do you really think I would let my Queen scar herself over something this slight? No. Let me, m'lady," he smiled at her softly, dragging the blade expertly over his ankle, letting the blood bead up on his skin. "How much, do you think?" After that, they joked about it as the King dabbed his blood on their bed sheets and the Queen waited, still not wearing a stitch of clothing. Once he had finished, she moved over and wrapped his ankle, smirking softly and kissing him gently. When the sheets had been inspected by the handmaidens (and discretely a maester and a septa) there were no questioning brows or polite inquiries. The secret remained between the King and his Queen.

Of course, Cersei couldn't tell Lyanna any of that, nor did she. Instead she smiled softly and let the conversation drag on, until a guard came to collect them. The secret remained firmly trapped between her smirking lips.

Some in the capitol found the camaraderie between the King and Queen odd, unsettling even. It wasn't proper in the eyes of the Septas, to catch the ruler of the realm pressing his wife up against the stones of the higher towers in the middle of the day, nor to spend awkward suppers watching them focus solely on each other. That wasn't to say that the king neglected his duties in anyway. If anything with Cersei at his side he was a stronger ruler. He attended every council meeting, unlike many a king before him, and often the Queen came with him.

The first month of their marriage that was how things functioned, Rhaegar a competent King and Cersei always by his side. She didn't yet have the grasp of politics enough for the men to permit her to speak, but it was private belief that Rhaegar was training her to do so. At least until the meeting neither of them attended, which happened to be a quite important trade meeting with House Tyrell. Tywin was more than capable of organizing the agreement, though their absence did have the effect of making the entirety of the small council incredibly curious. When a page was sent to find the King, he was directed to the Queen's rooms, but the scene he found was not that which he'd expected.

Instead of finding the King and Queen curled in passion, he found the King on his knees before the Queen. At first it was off-putting, nothing he'd quite seen before, until he notice the King's hands caressing the silk over the Queen's stomach as if he were in prayer. The page left, opting not to tell the Hand what he had seen. They would all know soon enough.

Cersei let out a slow breath as she smiled down at her husband, his hands still on her stomach. They'd been there for the last half hour, and he didn't seem to be done speaking any time soon. Of course, she hadn't the faintest idea of what he was saying; the High Valyrian was completely lost on her, though something about his unfailing focus was both unsettling and delightful. She stayed still, though her feet were beginning to protest the lack of motion and her legs shook slightly from the effort of staying stock-still. Her hands ran through his hair, coaxing him to stand and to kiss her gently. "Are you happy, my King?" She whispered.

It took him a moment, to focus those violet eyes on her fully. "Am I happy?" He whispered, his eyes twinkling in a way she had never quite seen. "Of course I'm happy, Cersei… by the gods… I couldn't be happier."

She smiled, nodding as she stared up at him. "Really?"

"Yes. It's barely been a month, and already…"

"Your seed has quickened in my womb," she whispered, resting her hands over his on her silks. "We're going to have a child, Rhaegar."

He nodded, stroking his thumbs over her skin before he removed his hands to cup her face, kissing her brow with a soft hum. "Yes we are. The first head of the Dragon." He smiled, but he knew he'd done wrong the moment he saw Cersei's eyes fall to the floor, and her smile tighten on her face. She seemed to stiffen in his arms and pull away, although not physically. He'd only seen her wall off once, when a visiting trader had laughed at her presence at a trading meeting. But it wasn't like this. "Cersei. Cersei look at me," he pleaded, trying to lift her head to face him.

But his Queen wouldn't, even when she did meet his eyes they didn't twinkle like they had moments before, all sense of her being happy with this gone. She was blank-faced and sunken, hollow. "I'll do my duty, my King. Now please, I need to rest, and I believe you have a council waiting on you."

Something splintered between them then, though he wasn't quite sure what, and he held her face a moment longer. A part of him wanted to push her and make her see that he meant no ill by mentioning the prophecy, that was immensely pleased with her pregnancy either way. But that was the same part of him then fought to shout at her and tell her she was being insolent and disrespectful, the part of him that wished him to be like his father. So instead he refrained and nodded, leaving his wife in her chambers.

It was an odd thing, her reaction, and he couldn't get it out of his head as he went about his duties. And it went on for weeks. Cersei refused him, avoided him. He could take his rights, of course, but he wouldn't even if the risk of hurting his child wasn't present. She seemed to draw in on herself, aging before the eyes of the Keep. Many claimed women seemed to be lit from within when with child, but that was certainly not the case with Cersei. If anything, the child inside of her seemed to be sapping the light right out of her.

She sat all day in her chambers, refused to go about the gardens as she used to. It seemed to pain her to go out of the Keep even to bid farewell to her best friend, and it was obvious to everyone that she was in no state to be hosting anyone. Her skin had taken on a sort of opalescent pallor, both beautiful and ethereal, but sickly. She was eating, but only when she was told to, and not with any sort of delight. Rhaegar felt that she would slip away under his fingers when he touched her, which was rare enough as it was. She still smiled her beautiful smiles, but they were false, empty like her eyes.

After weeks, it was Tywin Lannister who stepped up, and strode into his daughter's rooms, throwing back the drapes pulled tight over her windows. The sunlight illuminated the dust in her rooms, and the Queen turned away.

"Don't." Tywin spoke calmly, but his voice boomed into the quiet space and Cersei flinched away. "Whatever it is that set you off like this, you have taken more than long enough to recover. Now, there is kingdom circling with rumors over what has happened to their Queen. I suggest you settle those." He glanced at her, not waiting for a reply. "You are with child Cersei. That is hardly something novel, and you should be pleased," his lips quirked in a simile of a smile. "I knew your courtship was long, but the effect seemed to be quite worth it."

She blinked at him, still expressionless.

"You _will _do your duty as a Queen as well as a wife, Cersei, and you will do your duty as my daughter. No Lannister will sit in bed all day wallowing in whatever it is that has soiled your happiness with the King."

His daughter scoffed, but did not make a move.

"Get. Up." He ordered, "Go make up with your husband and fix whatever this is. Now." He walked to the bed and pulled back her quilts, like she was still a child and not the most powerful woman in the realm. "I will not have _my daughter _remain like this."

Cersei sighed, but got up, straightening out the rumpled fabric of her nightdress. Her steps were uneven, stumbling more than she would have ever let herself in the past as she made her way past her father's watchful gaze.

"I expect to see you cleaned up and with a proper meal in you by the time I see you outside of these doors. And then you will go to the King's solar and you will apologize to him for behaving like a petulant child."

"I have not been a _child," _she hissed, staring up at him with a spark of her fire returned to her eyes. "I am a lioness, and I will not be treated like broodmare for the King's ends." She glared at him, her teeth grinding steadily as she stared up at him.

Tywin rolled his eyes, shaking his head at her antics. "You are being a child as we speak. King Rhaegar has hardly treated you as a broodmare, your actions these past weeks have troubled him as much as they have troubled you. He has not been himself, and the kingdom has suffered."

She stared at him a moment, a brief flare of surprise crossing her sharp features, further sharpened by the little she had eaten. But as quick as it was there is was gone. "He only cares for his 'three heads' and his dragons and prophecy, Father. Everything before that… well the King is quite the liar. I should never have believed he loved me, I should never have thought it could be like…" she stopped, realizing who she was talking to. "Fine. I have been childish, and I will do my _duty_." She nearly spat the words, turning away from him. "Now, leave me. I need to get cleaned up, do I not?"

The Hand hummed, pleased, and left her without a word, allowing her plethora of handmaidens to enter. Cersei remained as silent as she had been since that conversation with Rhaegar, but her sullenness was absent. She _was _a lioness, she would not cringe simply because her husband saw her as a way to fulfill a prophecy rather than the love she had thought he perceived her as. She could and would pretend to be happy still, no matter how bitter it made her in the end. She was a _Queen_, and that's all she needed.

The maidens drew her a bath, perfumed with rose oil and lemon, and Cersei slipped beneath the water with a sigh of relief. When she greeted Rhaegar after weeks of silence, she would be more beautiful than when he first saw her. If there was one thing she could do, it was make him regret treating her as he had, even if the slight was in her mind alone.

She hadn't yet begun to show signs of pregnancy, and easily slipped into her second-best gown, more gold than red, and had her handmaidens lace it tightly around her. It felt like, armor, somehow, pulling the fine fabrics on after weeks of tawdry dresses meant for bed. She let the girls braid her hair, leaving most of it to hang in damp waves down her back. True to her father's request, she ate a full meal before she headed to her husband's solar, more than she'd eaten in one sitting in a week. Her steps were sure again as she strode through the halls, stepping into the sunlit room. It was stacked with books, a reminder that Rhaegar was an avid a scholar as he was a warrior, if not more. In the corner was his harp; untouched since the day they fought. He only sang songs for her now, and any songs he wanted to sing now were too morose for the harp.

"My King," Cersei spoke calmly, "I believe we need to talk."

Rhaegar turned around, rising from his chair and striding toward her, stepping so close that he seemed almost menacing. He had had more than half a mind to menace her, over the weeks, and it was only a fear of hurting her and his love for her that held his hand and his tongue. "Now? After weeks you ordain it fit to speak with me?" He spat, glaring down at her though she held still and glared right back at him, "You have ignored me, refused me, avoided me these past weeks without a single explanation. So please, do talk."

"I believe you are clever enough to ascertain exactly why I refused you, my King," She hissed, bordering on a snarl. "After all, what need I see you now that I'm with child? Everything I believed about you was a lie, Rhaegar. And I know, I wed you and I am not required to love you, nor is it expected for you to even remotely care for me. But do tell me if that is the kind of marriage you desire, so I can prepare myself to share your bed with whores-" Cersei gasped, finding herself pressed up against the wall of the solar, Rhaegar's hands gripping her shoulders.

"Stop!" He shouted, stepping back from her after a moment. "That is not what I want! Seven Hells, if that were what I wanted, would have told you all that I did, about the prophecy, would I have promised never to hurt you? No!" He ran a hand through his silver hair, "Cersei, I have grown to love you, and I had hoped we could have a loving marriage. The prophecy is merely a side note. Yes, it pleases me that you're already pregnant. Yes, part of that is due to the prophecy, but most of it" he sighed, stepping closer to her and cupping her cheek. "Most of it is because I treasure you, Cersei, and I am proud to have you as my wife, to have chosen you to bear my children."

"But I can't exactly say no, can I?" She muttered, looking up at him and completely ignoring the fluttering of her heart when he told her things like that. "I thought...I thought ours would be a marriage like in the songs, Rhaegar. And I know it's terribly childish, but I truly believed you would be that man for me, that you wouldn't be the beast Lyanna tells me her own husband is. I believed the message in those banners you hang about this place- the dragon wrapped around the lioness. I want that!" She stepped closer to him, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "I wanted it so much I would give you everything, all of myself. I trust you more than I trust anyone, even my brother. And I love you. But... When you mentioned that prophecy..."

"I broke my promise. I hurt you." He whispered, cupping both her cheeks and pulling her to him, resting his chin on her head. "I never meant to."

Cersei gave in. She leant into him and wrapped her arms around him, not caring if she was a lioness or not. She let herself cry, her tears beading on the leather of his doublet. His hand carded through her hair and he kissed her scalp as she cried silently, shaking in his arms after several minutes. She hadn't seemed to calm and that worried him.

"Cersei?" He whispered, pulling back enough that he could tilt her chin to look at him. Even tear streaked and morose she was beautiful, and he couldn't help but drop his lips to hers. She surprised him by kissing back, slowly and unsure than any kiss from her had ever been. He hated that, the hesitance there, and pushed harder, kissed her deeper. He found her pliant but not passionate, little of the woman he had come to love conveyed in her kiss. "Cersei... Please believe me. I love you. I do not want you to think that I do not, or that I see you as...as a source of children and little else. I have missed you by my side, I need you by my side, I need to be in your bed, and I need you. Please."

She stared at him, her brows arranged skeptically and her lip between her teeth. She was thinking, but he didn't give her time for that.

Before she could reply Rhaegar picked her up and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him and carrying her through the solar to his own chambers. She'd never been in them of course, he frequented her rooms more than anything else, or at least he had before, and it was not something he believed was considered normal. The king's bed was for the king's business. For many a man that would have meant the king's whores, but Rhaegar was not that sort of man. He dropped his wife onto the black silks and kissed her again, wanting her to react. It took time, but the Queen did, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him down, almost digging into the King's scalp in their force.

There were seldom moments in the last weeks where he had seen Cersei be the lioness he had married, but this was surely one of them. After seconds the Queen had taken control of the kiss, her hands working through his hair and scrambling over his scalp, moving further and scoring the leather in her ferocity. There was more anger there than most men appreciated from their wives, but after weeks of tepid silence, Rhaegar relished it. He wanted her to hurt him, to mark his skin with her wrath and leave bruises with her spite. And though it went unspoken, Cersei seemed all too willing to comply. King or not, she disrobed him and rode him, golden hair falling in a curtain around them both until she arched back in ecstasy, the cry on her lips something he had missed more than anything.

Once they had finished, she lay panting on his chest while he ran his fingers through her hair, following the strands to the lowest part of her back, and back up, occasionally lower just to taunt her. She kissed him lazily, with all the love and want he had missed, and words bubbled up in his throat, making it ache with their necessity. "I love you, my Golden Queen," He murmured, caressing her cheek, "I adore you, and I never meant to hurt you. But please… Please the next time I anger you, tell me what I have done. In fact, even if I did not anger you, but you are angry, please tell me what it is that upset you." He sighed, looking up at her. "This silence… I never want to see it again."

It wasn't an order, but a request, and Cersei could respect that. She smiled wryly at her lord husband and kissed his jaw. "I will. Though I'll warn you, a great many things make me angry."

Rhaegar laughed. "Then I will spend as much time as I can afford listening to your grievances."

He thought she was teasing. She was not.

Pregnancy was not particularly hard on the Queen. It was, however, extremely tedious to the royal court, her barrage of handmaidens, and anyone unfortunate enough to work in the kitchens. And the King, true to his word, listened to her complaints and did his best to solve them. There were many complaints. Food made her sick, but she was hungry. Then, there was nothing she wanted to eat. He sent to Dorne for fruit, which seemed to satisfy her for a while. But soon that grew tiresome. She couldn't sleep, it was too hot in her rooms, so he brought her to his, but then his bed was uncomfortable. Then, she grew tired, irritable, and refused to come to small council meetings. Or any meetings. That worried him.

It took almost into her sixth moon for him to truly come face to face with the demon his wife could be when pregnant. Above all her other complaints, Cersei most frequently lamented her size. It didn't matter than both the Maesters and the women about the Keep agree that she was carrying quite easily, nor that she had hardly gained any weight anywhere besides her swelling stomach. The mere fact that her dresses had been let out and now she was wearing simple, robe-like gowns tired her to no end.

"They can't seem to make me a decent dress," She muttered one morning, still sitting naked as the day she was born on her bed, hair a mess about her shoulders. The handmaidens would be in in a moment, but for now she was watching Rhaegar dress, and bemoaning her shape yet again. "It cannot be that difficult to not make me look any… larger than I already am."

"You're not," He sighed, internally groaning as he knelt before her and pressed a kiss to the skin above her navel. "You're with child, Cersei, if you were no larger I would be quite worried." He smiled laughingly up at her and kissed her nose. "Besides, you're even more gorgeous now. Although when you scowl like that…"

"Shut up," She huffed with a soft pout, though her emerald eyes twinkled in a smile. "I am not scowling."

"No, you're pouting now," He winked. "And it's far too sexy, you really must stop."

That got her to laugh, and she rolled her eyes at him, "You must make everything a joke, mustn't you?" She smiled, before taking his face in her hands and kissing him deeply. "Go, before my father comes looking for you again." It was her turn to wink, and she stood up just as her favorite handmaiden entered, nodding before the girl could speak and heading to her bath.

Rhaegar rolled his eyes, but he was glad that she seemed to be cheered up.

In high summer the realm was in peace, largely, and crops were up in Highgarden this season. Without the fear of Aery's terror, the people were satisfied with things. Ruling was easy enough, which gave him far too much time to focus on his wife, much to her father's apparent disdain. Of course, Rhaegar knew as well as Tywin did that him being pleased with Cersei, loving her as he did, was as much a blessing as it was a surprise. Still, he did make an effort to do rule, and the damages of his father's reign had been repaired, the Greyjoys put back in their place and taxed by the realm, and the debt to the Iron Bank settled. He knew he had to prove to the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms that he wasn't his father, nor was he some green boy caught up in being King. He could rule, and he would rule, and a better King than his father had ever been.

To do that, the last year had shown, he needed Cersei's support. Though she had become much more difficult in the past months, it was still worth it to the King to cater to her every whim so long as it kept her by his side and appeased. Her father gave good counsel, and Cersei rarely spoke in meetings or attended them anymore, but she gave excellent private council. He had no doubt if any man besides Tywin Lannister wore the title of Hand, she would have no qualms about speaking her mind, and giving him council.

Still, he was grateful for a peaceful summer. He would not want any of his children to be born into the harshness of winter or war, though he knew the two were as inevitable as summer heat or Cersei's tantrums.

The death of Queen Rhaella in childbirth had left behind Rhaegar's youngest sibling, a small if strong little girl. Daenerys had needed a mother, and the newly crowned queen knew her expectations. Quickly those had become much more than expectations, the more time she spent with the girl. She grew attached to her, and by the time the girl was nearly a year old, and the queen in her seventh moon of pregnancy, she was well bonded to her. Since Cersei spent fewer and fewer hours in court and meetings, she spent increasing time with the infant princess. The girl rarely left her side when the queen was in private.

"Sei," Daenerys whined, unable to say the queens full name yet. Her small pouted lips pulled on the syllables and she managed to her the last one out. Rhaegar was "Rae" to the girl, and Cersei found it far too adorable. And besides, as the king often said, spending time with Daenerys was good practice for their own child.

"What, little dragon?" Cersei laughed, picking her up and lounging in the garden chaise. "You're too small to be a dragon. More of a lizard."

The princess shook her head, tugging on the length of Cersei's braid as she sat on her lap, before resting her hands on the woman's swollen belly. "Sei?"

"Not a lizard then. Well, dragon it is." She laughed again, kissing her brow. "You'll have another little dragon to play with soon. Maybe a little boy, hmm? A prince?"

Dany pointed to Viserys in the yard with one of her tiny hands."Pwince!"

"Better than Viserys," Cersei muttered. She had no love for the younger prince, insipid and arrogant as he was. Scrawny and pale eyed, the boy looked like a washed out and emaciated version of her husband. With none of his kindness. Already the wet nurse was troubled by him with Daenerys. Cersei knew that Rhaegar as well hated the boy, and blood of the dragon or not, she wouldn't have him around her children. She'd already asked Rhaegar to send him to ward with another lord.

She was only waiting for the king to find a suitable host.

Deanerys, on the other hand, was adorable and sweet and would be a perfect companion to Cersei's own child. The queen turned back to her and kissed her tiny nose. "You, princess, are far too cute..." She tickled the girl softly, beaming as she giggled. She could spend hours with the small girl, those violet eyes reminding her so much of Rhaegar, and she hoped her own children would do so as well. Violet eyed and silver haired, she wanted Targaryen children, princes and princesses, the future kings and queens of the realm. Well, no longer Queens. Rhaegar had said he was ending the tradition, and Cersei's had agreed. How could she tell him she didn't mind, that she and Jaime... She couldn't, and she never would.

She ran a hand over her stomach and smiled softly, before arranging Dany on her hip and heading back into the Keep.

Cersei went into labor on the hottest day of the summer, and coincidentally while Rhaegar was in the Kingswood hunting with Robert Baratheon. The man was a fool, and the King spent half the trip grinding his teeth over the japes he made about the Queen, as well as his own wife. When the rider came to tell him to return to the castle, it was a blessing. Still, the ride to the Red Keep could not have gone slower for the King, even though he rode far ahead of his kingsguard. Cersei would murder him herself if he missed the birth of their child.

Thankfully, he arrived when she was still beginning the process, according to the Maesters. When he entered she looked composed, relaxed in the birthing bed. He wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I was afraid I would miss it," he murmured.

"I have been assured you won't," She sighed, though smiled softly, anxiously, at him. "Apparently it takes hours…" She briefly recalled the faint memories of her brother's birth, her mother's screams, the blank, thousand yard stare of her father as he had them escorted from the hall. And the blood, when she snuck back in to see, to understand. So much blood. And her twisted monster of a little brother lying in his cot, face red and ruddy, but sleeping peacefully. The memory drained the blood from her face and the smile from her lips, and she looked away from Rhaegar, a hand coming across her stomach as she tightened her grip on his hand.

"What is it?" He murmured, but she couldn't reply before a stronger contraction ripped through her and she forgot to breathe for a moment. More than, since he had to squeeze her hand and remind her to breathe.

When it past Cersei panted softly, looking up at him. "What. What if…" She swallowed and dropped her voice. 'What if it's like Tyrion?" The unspoken was evident, her fears of her mother's fate alongside those of failing the realm, her family, her father, and Rhaegar.

Rhaegar froze for a moment and shook his head. "It won't be. Don't worry, it'll be as perfect as you and you," He paused, resting a hand on her cheek, "You will be fine." She had to be. If she died in childbirth like Lysa Arryn had, he wouldn't know what do with himself. He squeezed her hand again and kissed her brow. "Lyanna was just fine, and she sent a letter did she not?"

"Yes," She sighed, looking up at him and bringing her breathing back to normal. "She did. She told me it would all be worth it in the end… but she has a healthy son, three months old. Of course she would say that." She frowned, the stubborn cast to her features he so loved settling further. "She also doesn't have _dwarfs_ in her family line. I do!"

"Neither do I," He told her, "Just as you have no madness. Our children will be perfect, golden dragon cubs." He laughed softly, having just come up with that. "Dragoncubs?"

Cersei rolled her eyes. "You think you're so clever don't you?" Still, he was right, there had been dwarfs in the Lannister line alone. Besides, Tyrion was born in a winter storm, when afflictions plagued the Rock. She was young, healthy, unrelated to Rhaegar, and it was high summer. She would be fine.

After another half day of worry and pain, the Maester's forced Rhaegar from the room. Or at least they tried to, since the King calmly refused and the Queen panicked at the thought. They let him stay, holding her hand and periodically losing the circulation in it as her contractions increased.

Their daughter came into the world as the darkness was splitting into dawn, and Rhaegar already began thinking of new songs to herald her to. She was the second birth of the sun, after Cersei, and just as perfect. Sadly, when they announced it was a baby girl, he had to watch his Queen's face turn crestfallen for a moment. He wanted to tell her it didn't matter to him if she gave him sons or daughters, or any sons at all. To him, it mattered not. But he knew that her father would blame her, and expect her to give him a prince. The thought almost made him want to hit the man. But the look on her face past once the tiny girl was placed in her arms, and he watched Cersei's face break out in a bright, if exhausted smile.

"Hello," She whispered to the small girl, cradling her expertly and kissing her tiny nose. After a minute she looked up at Rhaegar. "You were right… she's perfect."

"Yes she is." He nodded, "And she couldn't be more perfect. And Cersei," He paused, leaning forward to kiss the Queen's brow. "You did wonderfully. I don't care that she's a princess not a prince, and I will not let anyone tell you otherwise." A princess could still be a head of the dragon, as in Aegon's time. And he was sure there would be Prince's to come.

She was understandably surprised, flicking her eyes from his to her daughter, noting that she had the deep violet eyes of her father, possibly even deeper amethyst. The Queen swallowed and nodded, relieved and exhausted tears springing to her eyes. "Thank you," She whispered, "Thank you, my love." He always seemed to read her fears like that, and she knew she usually masked them. But maybe Rhaegar just knew her that well, and paid much more attention than anyone ever had.

"You don't have to thank me," The king promised, running a hand over her hair as he too looked at their new child. "I should thank you though, you did all the work."

"Indeed," She laughed quietly, smiling as the baby grabbed at her robes. "Do you think she's hungry?" The maesters had left, on orders from Rhaegar she hadn't heard, and she felt comfortably free with just her husband and daughter.

He beamed softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Maybe she just wants to be closer to her mother. We should name her before the entire court demands it of us." He ran a hand over the girl's back, humming softly.

Cersei hummed as well, not the same tune, and looked between them again. "She looks like you. She should have a Targaryen name." She hoped, truly, that all her children would have the Targaryen look. They were to carry on a dynasty, and though Rhaegar had married outside the bloodline (to preserve it, he claimed, the shadows of his father on his features), Westeros had always been ruled by silver-haired, violet-eyed dragons. She didn't want to change that.

"Did you have anything in mind?" He murmured, cutting into her thoughts. She knew he would be thinking of Visenya, since he so often called her that, but she didn't want to name her something so well known.

Of course, Tywin had filled her lessons with Targaryen history, and she ran through the names in her head. Her daughter may look like her father's kin, but Cersei's pride revolted against the purely Targaryen names, and those known to every peasant in the kingdom. Her daughter deserved something less common, and a name at least reminiscent of her own family's names. "Daena? Or am I recalling that wrong?"

"The wife of Baelor the Blessed… no, that's right." Rhaegar murmured, "It's a good name." it sounded rather similar to his sister's name, though Daenerys was only a year older than his daughter. Cersei had bonded well with the girl, but he expected that to change with the arrival of her own daughter. He would see to it that they grew up together, at least, since he could not force the Queen to mother his sister. He hoped she would continue to care for her though.

She smiled softly. "Daena, then. Daena Joanna."

The King nodded and kissed her brow, before he allowed her the privacy of feeding her daughter, and went to tell Tywin the news.

After he left, Cersei looked down at the tiny girl and smile tiredly, stroking back the feather light silvery blonde hair on her head. She didn't speak, there were too many words clustered on her tongue and she had been up for too long and too exhausted by the labor to make them coherent. Her daughter would be beautiful, cherished, and loved, the Queen's most prized possession. She smiled as she invited the child to suckle her breast, already despising the idea of a wet nurse. Propriety be damned, she knew Rhaegar wouldn't mind if she insisted on caring for Daena herself. After all, she'd already proven herself more than capable with Daenerys, and her own child would be even easier.

The fact that she had born a girl didn't bother her now that she held her. Even the fact that both Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark already had male heirs just months older than her daughter didn't phase her. Neither Joffrey Baratheon nor Robb Stark was the crown-anything of any realm, and her daughter was the crown princess. At least until a price came along, which he would. Considering how oft she and Rhaegar were joined, she knew it wouldn't be long. And even if it were, the precious child now sleeping in her arms would be enough. Daena was hers, not given to her, not loaned or on her father or Rhaegar's allowances, but _hers. _She made her, carried her, birthed her, screamed and bled for her. And Cersei would treasure her.


	5. Like the Sea Over Sand

"Cersei," Rhaegar sighed, walking after his wife as she carried their daughter through the keep. Though it had been just a moon since Daena's birth, the Queen had regained most of her figure and all of her speed. He had to hurry to keep up with her despite his much longer stride. "Cersei, by the Gods stop walking!" He exclaimed, grabbing her shoulder and nearly earning himself a slap for his trouble. "You can't bring her with us, this is an important and lengthy visit, it wouldn't do to bring her…"

"You would have me leave our child at home, in the care of some stranger, while we got to Dorne?" She growled, the anger in her eyes winning out over her protective fears. "No. I won't leave her here; I would rather stay with her than go. I don't see why you want me to go anyway."

"You are my wife," He reminded her, though the simple statement carried much more weight. Cersei felt it, and her glare hardened like cold rolled steel.

She paused a moment, fining him with a look of fury. "If you're going to make me go and do as my duty commands, please you as you like, as your _wife_, then say it." She spat darkly. It had been a habit of hers to use the defense, to play on his love for her and his desire to see her nothing but happy in order to get the things she wanted. Weak power, but all the power she could get. Being Queen carried little weight inside the keep, and though she could expend it elsewhere, she refused to leave Daena. The girl hadn't even known a wet nurse, as the Queen insisted on caring for her herself and always had the girl at her side.

Turning Rhaegar's care against him was dangerous, she knew, and she could see the exasperation in his eyes when she did it. But he never raised his voice or a hand to her in protest of the choice, and she hoped he never would.

The King stepped back and swallowed. "Fine you and Daena can stay here, and I will enjoy _all _that Dorne has to offer, _alone_." The words sent ice into Cersei's stomach, for he was playing the same game she was. He knew all her fears by now, save the most important one, and he played them expertly just as she did his. Her glare and mask crumpling, she gave him a last look before she turned away and began walking briskly through the keep. Though her gaze was hard and she refrained from running, hot tears dripped down her pale cheeks. Dorne, Dornish customs, and especially Dornish girls… she knew what most lords were like, and she wouldn't have been surprised if Rhaegar took full advantage of her remaining in King's Landing. The thought of him with someone else made her stomach lurch and she sat against the wall, leaning back. Daena whimpered in her arms and Cersei looked down at her, caressing the soft wisps of silver hair. "My good girl," She whispered, though Daena still whimpered and started to fuss, something she did rarely even with the summer heat. Tension made for unhappy children, Cersei recalled hearing somewhere, and held her closer, kissing her brow. "Shhh, little dragon," She whispered, more of a plea than anything, "It's not time to cry now. Shhh."

The tiny princess didn't quiet, instead fussing more intently and letting out a cry, signaling a rare tantrum. With a sigh, the Queen stood up again and carried her to her private chambers. "Do not let anyone in," she told the guard with all the authority she felt she deserved, "Not even the King." The guard gave her a look but didn't question it, opening the door for her.

Once safely inside Cersei loosened her bodice and let Daena nurse, chewing her own lip as her daughter seemed to quiet with the distraction. The Queen looked out the window to King's Landing, her thoughts drifting aimlessly on the wind that blew through the gossamer drapes, bringing only more of the wet sea heat. Finally she made her way to her bedroom and nearly jumping out of her skin.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Rhaegar sighed, looking up at her from where he sat on her bed. Their bed, more often than not.

She bit her lip and ignored him, waking to her vanity with the princess still at her breast.

"Cersei," he huffed, "Don't you want to know why I'm here? I have a diplomatic envoy to organize."

"Of which I'm well aware. You're welcome to leave," she muttered, her lip between her teeth. "I would bet you simply can't wait to see how many girls you can fuck with your wife at home." Her gaze flicked up to him, teary, but masked behind anger.

He didn't need to see it to understand. Within a breath he was next to her, giving her an exasperated look. "You are an idiot. The prettiest idiot I've yet to meet, and the cleverest, but an idiot."

"I am not-" he put his finger to her lips.

"Why would I want whores when I have you? What reason have I given you to doubt me?"

Cersei paused, looking down at Daena and realizing the truth in his words, though her pride would not allow her to admit it. "None, but things are different in Dorne. I have heard their men take many lovers, as do their women… I wouldn't be surprised if you…"

"I wouldn't. And I would certainly hope you would be surprised!" The King sounded more offended than Cersei had meant to make him, and she sighed.

"I didn't mean to offend you, my lord…" She sighed, looking away from him and standing, rocking Daena gently.

The King rolled his eyes. "My wife thinks me unfaithful, of course I'm offended," He huffed, following her. "I have never given you a single reason to doubt me. And I never will, Dorne regardless." He turned her to him and rested a hand on her shoulder, and another on Daena's back. "You're worrying her with all of this…"

Cersei bitterly looked down, but pulled the girl closer to her. "You're the one who doesn't want her to come and is making me stay home." She turned away, the anger rolling off her in waves even though she understood he meant to comfort her. Maybe it was tension more than anger, and she closed her eyes for a moment before she laid Daena on her small cot. "What do you want me to say, Rhaegar? What is it you need from me?"

"I don't need anything," He told her calmly, wrapping his arms around her middle and guiding her to him. "I don't need or want anything besides you, by my side." Holding her though she had only stiffened in his arms, he kissed her hair. "Cersei… Cersei… my Cersei. The light of the West… my Visenya." He leaned in and kissed her ear. "Why would I need anyone else when I have you?"

She swallowed, but leaned into him after a moment. "Don't go. Stay here, until Daena's older… and then I'll come with you. It's still summer, and it shows no sign of ending…"

He sighed. "I suppose… how long? I cannot keep the Martell's waiting forever."

"You give them too much freedom as it is."

"Would you have me go to war on Dorne, my Queen?" he teased, thumbing along her stomach. "Lay siege where even Aegon the conqueror failed? Think of how long I'd be apart from you then."

She rolled her eyes and looked at him. "Of course not. You're being ridiculous." She turned to him and rested her hand on the black robes he wore. Her nails ran over the fine crimson embroidery and she looked up at him. "If you went to war… I would be alone far too long. Make other men fight your wars, Rhaegar."

Staring at him for a moment, Cersei was dead serious, but she soon heard the King's laugh and let out dark huff of air. "Fine. Go to Dorne. But take Jaime with you, at least he'll tell me if you fuck anyone else."

She felt Rhaegar look down at her and his hands on her cheeks, raising her gaze. "I have already said I would rather wait and have you accompany me, not your twin. The Kingslayer is a poor replacement for you, as similar as you look."" He laughed when she scowled and cupped her cheek. "You know how I feel about your brother, you don't need to worry."

"You know how I feel about that title," She grumbled, though she did so half-heartedly and smiled at him. "You will wait though?"

"I'll wait," He nodded. Cersei knew how much patience it must have took for him to talk through each of their little arguments when she was so petulant. With that realization, she felt suddenly guilty and looked down.

She looked up after another moment and leaned up to kiss him softly. "Thank you, my king." An apology lingered thick on her tongue like clotted cream, but her pride held her lips closed and her tongue stiff in its iron fist.

"Of course,"' Rhaegar smiled softly. He kissed her softly. "I'll stay here, and relax. And the we will go to Dorne and both enjoy all it has to offer." She smiled, and he kissed her softly again.

In three months the King and Queen left for Dorne, leaving the Princess in the care of Cersei's favorite handmaiden, a capable wet-nurse, and under the watchful eyes of Tywin and Jaime. Cersei hadn't been comfortable at first with letting her twin leave her side. Of course, since her marriage they had grown apart in many ways, and now that he was back with her, there was still a rift between them. She no longer longed for him in the way that she once had. Rhaegar was everything she had dreamed of, and though there were moments when she wished she could confide in Jaime, or where she yearned for the feeling of his hands on her, his mouth, but then she would stop herself. Jaime… Jaime… Jaime still loved her, in the way that he had before he left. She could see it in his eyes when he watched her, as she laughed with her husband or held her daughter. She knew the lord commander of the Kingsguard didn't permit him to stand guard outside her rooms, but she suspected he heard her with the King anyway. Why she couldn't fathom.

He was unhappy, but unwilling to leave her. And when she asked him to watch Daena, she watched his face fall, but he forced a smile. "You can't come, Jaime…" she sighed, keeping her voice down as she led him down the hall. "And you love Daena."

"Of course I do," He sighed, looking down at her and taking her hand. "She's your daughter." Cersei knew he imagined that she was theirs, wishing as he always had that they had been able to marry. He used to joke about it as children, running away to the free cities with her. But she had her King now, she was the Queen, and she was happy. But Jaime… Jaime would never be.

Still, Cersei squeezed his hand and pulled hers back. "I know you'll take care of her, Jaime. You know how hard it is for me to leave her here."

He nodded. "I will, but she has a wet-nurse. I'm not much good to her yet. I thought you wanted to take her with you..."

"I did. But... I don't think Dorne is any place to bring an infant."

"I suppose." Jaime sighed. "I'll watch her. And I'll walk with her in the gardens like you do." At seventeen, they still looked similar enough, though had shorn his golden locks off when he joined the Kingsguard. He knew how tender Cersei was with her child, and under the guise of protector he would be as well.

Cersei smiled brilliantly at him and kissed his cheek. He tried to turn his face and get her lips, but she pulled away. "Thank you. I'll see you in a month."

The next day he held the princess against the cool plate of his white armor, watching his sister ride off with the king. The ache in his chest was more pressing than he expected as the princess squirmed in his arms. Jaime had no idea how long he stood there, only that by the time he left the carriage and horses (who would have thought Cersei would choose to ride her horse out of the city) had long since slipped from view.

They rode through the city on horseback, Cersei's cheeks burning from smiling the whole way by the time they were on the Kings road. She glanced over at her husband and nudged her horse closer. "I've never been to Dorne, you know. The Martells visited us at Casterly Rock once, but we never visited them. Father doesn't care for the heat."

"I do believe it is the customs he doesn't care for,' Rhaegar corrected with a smirk. "But he can't stop me from showing his daughter all that the place has to offer, now that I have stolen her."

She laughed and smirked softly, "You hardly stole me,' She winked, "In fact, I think it was I who made the first move on you." Of course, she'd long since told him of the embarrassing amount of planning that went into that chance encounter, but it still called a soft blush to her cheeks.

The King just laughed. "You are a brazen one, my Queen." Out of anyone else's mouth it would have been an insult, but from him she adored the compliment. "And I can tell from that smirk of yours you know just how much I adore it."

"And if I do?" 

He winked. "Then I think… we should relocate to the carriage so I can show you just how much I adore it."

Cersei stared at him for a moment and laughed, rolling her eyes. "We're not in Dorne yet, my lord. And I will not have you showing me _anything _while we're in a carriage." She may be no simpering wife, in or out of the bedchamber, but she was raised to have certain standards. Letting the King, husband or not, have her in a moving carriage where any number of his guard could hear or see did not even remotely fall within those guidelines. So she simply rolled her eyes at him again and urged her horse a little faster. "Ask me again when we stop for the night," She teased, smirking wickedly.

It was lovely to ride and to tease Rhaegar, but eventually Cersei grew sore and retreated to the carriage, making her Lord Husband come with her so she could lay her head on his shoulder. He was a patient man, that much could be said for him. She rested her head in his lap since no one could see them, having to loosen her corset after lying there and feeling it press against her ribs. At least in Dorne she could forgo wearing one, and dress in the looser, more flowing styles she had commissioned, similar to those of old Valyria. She would look like a true Targaryen bride now.

The journey progressed rather relaxed, though the stop in the Stormlands on the fourth day was nearly extended to a fortnight. Cersei wished to visit Lyanna and her new babe, and Robert was still trying to make peace with the King and Queen. In truth, if not for the close relationship between Lyanna and Cersei they may not have stopped there at all.

"I miss Daena," Cersei sighed, laying across the bed and watching her closest friend hold her son. Unlikely friends, but closer now than ever. "I know Jaime will care for her… but I do wish she could have come."

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Lyanna hummed, stroking the soft black hair on Joffery's head, laughing when his little face scrunched up. "I doubt the wailing of an infant would improve your trip."

The Queen watched her and sighed wistfully. "She hardly cries. Even when she's hungry she fusses more than anything, though that may be because I am never away from her long enough to worry her. But she has her father's temperament, or Jaime's. According to my septas I was a very demanding child."

Lyanna grinned and arched a brow. "Somehow that is very easy to believe, my Queen," she teased. "But you're lucky. This one is a right screamer. Definitely Baratheon… he's far too loud to have much Stark in him." There was a wistful tone to her voice, for it was all too easy to see the husband she was quickly coming to detest in her new son. Of course she loved him, with all her heart, but she hoped her next babe would have grey eyes and paler skin, and be of her blood more than this one. For Robert may claim to love her, but when he crawled over her stinking of whores and Dornish sour she lost faith in his words.

Still, he was the handsome Lordling she loved and had loved, and there were times that he was a good as she could imagine.

Cersei picked up on the melancholy but didn't press. There were things they did not talk about, and Lyanna's marriage had become one of them. Best to focus on the children. "You are lucky to have born a boy though," She mused, "Rhaegar claims he does not care what sex our children are… but all men want sons don't they?" She sighed, sitting up a little. "I'm beginning to think my father only wants me to bear boys, so I may carry on both the Targaryen and Lannister lines. He'd brave the seven hells before he left it to Tyrion."

Lyanna knew all too well of Cersei's hatred of her youngest brother. "The Imp," She sighed, "Is the lord of Casterly Rock. He will be Warden of the West someday, lest you can convince your husband to remove his titles. As if you would sacrifice Lannister pride like that. And besides," she rocked Joffrey, hoping to quiet him, "Rhaegar seemed intrigued by him."

With a huff, Cersei sat up fully. "I'm all too aware of that fact. He wouldn't remove him, no matter how much father or I desire it. He thinks he's clever." She rolled her eyes, but Lyanna shook her head.

"Don't be so hard on him," she sighed, "He may surprise you."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

After a moment Lyanna laughed softly and Cersei joined her after a moment. After a minute they roused Joffrey, who started to wail, his small face rumpled and reddening. Certainly Baratheon then.

"I'll leave you to that…" The Queen laughed, not one for wailing children, since Daena was so passive and quiet. But Lyanna stopped her, rested a hand on her arm and calling the wet nurse to handle the child. "Come, I want to show you around Storm's End. At least it's not actually storming, for once."

She agreed, waiting for Lyanna to fix her dress and take her arm. "And I suppose your husband has completely corralled mine, yes?" They both knew Rhaegar held no love for Robert, only a thin respect. And after the Lord of the Stormlands failures in the Greyjoy rebellion, even that was waning.

"He seems to think he can bribe him with food, drink, and whores. Won't listen to me about it," she held up a hand, "I have already told him the King has no taste for baser pleasures. Robert evidently can't fathom a man being satisfied with his wife alone."

The Queen sighed and pursed her lips. "I will admit I had the same fear, when Rhaegar initially planned to go to Dorne. He was going to go without me… knowing my worries." A slight blushed appeared on her lightly tanned cheeks, brought to life by her walks with Daena in the gardens. Lyanna knew all in her heart save what she had with Jaime. The other woman had even replaced her twin in her confidence. Jaime still believed she would feel dissatisfied with Rhaegar and turn to him once more, but Cersei knew otherwise. She confided in Rhaegar and she confided in Lyanna, and that was what she needed. It only hurt Jaime to be as close to him as she once had, though they still spoke frequently and at length.

"We all know your worries, me especially, as I am part to blame for them." Lyanna sighed, leading her from her rooms, "In fact, while you were dressing your husband pulled me aside to ask that I stop filling your head with these worries."

"He what?" She gasped, stopping Lyanna in the corridor.

"Asked me to stop making you fear that he will turn out to be like my husband," she sighed, shrugging. "Let's go outside, you can see Shipbreaker Bay from here and it's fascinating."

They left Storms End after three days by ship, for the road to Dorne was not a passable one. Not unless the King wished to force his Queen to ride a sand stead through the desert. It was not an appetizing idea.

Still, neither the King nor Queen were fond of the sea, and spent most of the journey curled in their cabin below deck trying not to get sick. Once they arrived in Sunspear Cersei practically dragged her husband from the boat, legs shaky. "Careful, my Queen," a man called in front of her, his voice accented more than she had expected. Then again, most of the Dornishmen and women she had met had lived in the Capitol most of their lives.

Rhaegar straightened himself and took Cersei's arm. "Let's go, my love. The Prince of Dorne is expecting us."

Prince Oberyn Martell led them down the dock. He was eight years older than Cersei, exceedingly pleasing to the eye, and if the rumors were to be believed he was on a quest to bed everyone in the seven kingdoms. That would at least explain why he was flirting with the Queen _and _the King. Cersei found it tiresome and annoying, but Rhaegar laughed.

"You're very bold, prince Oberyn." The King laughed, "Though I think you'll find my wife is not inclined in the Dornish ways."

"Really?" Oberyn chuckled, walking beside the king but glancing over at Cersei. "From what I have heard of your married life, my King, that's not entirely true…"

That nearly got him slapped by the Queen. "What? Prince Oberyn, I think you have grossly overstepped-"

"In jest," he laughed, stepping next to her. "Don't be so uptight, my Queen. You will never enjoy your visit." Lannister pride would never permit her to engage in the activities and desires that Oberyn himself adored. It may do her some good, though, to relax and indulge.

He turned and led them up a path. Sunspear was set atop a low cliff only 50 feet above the ocean. Cersei followed the Prince wondering if everyone in Dorne was quite like this or if he was merely an exception. He was telling them about his daughters, which gave Cersei pause.

"I didn't know you were married…" she hummed.

"Oh, My Queen I think being married would be so boring, one must keep life interesting. No, I have four daughters, each with a different woman. Obara is my eldest, 11; she is the daughter of a whore that I enjoyed one night in Oldtown. Nymeria is the second oldest, she is 9. Her mother was a stunning woman from some fancy noble family in Volantis. After that is Tyene, she is 7 years old, her mother was septa… and so as you can imagine she looks rather pure. She is also closest with her cousin Arianne who you will meet if you choose to visit the Water Gardens, despite the fact that Arianne is between Nymeria and Obara in age. Last is Sarella, she is only 3 but already enjoys doing whatever she is told not to."

His explanation silenced the Queen, and she pointedly arched a brow at her husband. Rhaegar only smiled. "We will have to meet them all sometime, and yes, we were planning a visit to the water gardens in a few days time."

By this point they had reached the castle and began to wind their way through the halls of the castle to base of the Spear Tower. Oberyn lead them all the way to the top, asking Cersei about Daena and the capital. When the reached the top he opened a door for them, turned and left.

Rhaegar knew where they were of course, and that the tower itself was commonly reserved for highborn prisoners, but he held that from his wife. Cersei would take it as an offense while he clearly knew it to be the Prince of Dorne offering them both the privacy and luxury that the tower could afford. So he smiled at Oberyn and led Cersei inside.

"One room," she mused, though a delightedly saucy smile pulled at her lips. "This will be fun."

"Indeed," Rhaegar grinned, shutting the door and guiding her to the large balcony, overlooking the seas as far as the eye could see. "And no one to interrupt us…"

She leaned back into him as she watched the waves, lovely to see, but not for much else. "You did mention you needed to be here for the good of the realm…"

"Ah, caught me," he laughed, "After the feast tonight you can come back here or go see the rest of the palace, for I have to meet with Prince Doran. You and I both know Dorne is not the same as the other kingdoms. My father nearly broke the peace, and I have no interest in having them seek independence because of his madness."

"I know," She hummed, "But I would prefer to watch you rule. May I sit in?"

Rhaegar considered for a moment and nodded, though a bit reluctantly. "I suppose he won't mind. You are the only council I brought, after all. And becoming one of the best I have."

She grinned, turning to kiss him softly. "You won't regret it, my King."

Once they had regained themselves from the journey, and settled into their shared rooms (something which had surprised, and delighted, both the King and Queen), Cersei donned the lighter dresses she had commissioned for this trip. The scarlet silk tied around her neck and gathered beneath her breasts, still fuller than they would have been had she not been nursing Daena herself, and then hung down in loose folds to the floor. It was translucent, and even partially transparent. Obviously it was having an effect on the King, who ran his hands over her partially exposed back as he tied the dress at her neck.

"You like it?" She laughed softly, smirking as he rested his face in the cascade of her hair against her neck.

"Of course I do. And every other man at the feast will as well."

She rolled her eyes. "I've seen what the Dornish girls wear," she scoffed, "And I think that Prince has made it abundantly clear that I am not up to par."

Rhaegar sighed, "The prince has yet to see you like this. And you have to relax, Cersei. He was right, you need to let yourself enjoy Dorne. Eat, drink, dance, don't think of it as a chore." He turned and kissed her softly, moving a wisp of gold off her face. "You'll like it much more if you have some fun." With another short kiss, he released her, he slipped the lighter black robe over his shirt, fastening the silver clips and shaking out his hair.

Cersei watched him and smiled teasingly, taking a deep breath. "I'll try, my King." She purred, "Shall we?"

He guided her down from the tower and then they were escorted to the throne room. The palace at Sunspear had a seaside brilliance both King's Landing and Casterly Rock shared, but it was more open, with large views of the sea and flowing curtains of deep purple that blew with the sea wind. The fabric of Cersei's dress blew with the wind as well, and gathered around her slender legs. As starting an image that would have been for her to present in the capitol, once they entered the throne room, she realized it was tame.

At least half the women wore dresses nearly see-through, with plunging necklines. The Royal couple stood out plainly against the mass of people, wrapped in their red and black against the pale pastels of the Dornishmen and the deep purple of the Princes. Still, the crowd clapped and parted for them to enter and walk to the high table. Prince Doran bowed to them and kissed Cersei's hand. "Welcome to Sunspear." He grinned.

They enjoyed the feast, to a level that would have been out of place in King's Landing. Rhaegar made sure to get enough wine in his wife that she finally relaxed, allowing him to spin her around the room in elaborate dances and listen to her laugh. She made quite the favorable impression on Doran Martell while he danced with her and while they spoke over food. It was almost funny to watch Cersei eat, for she'd been craving the heat of Dornish food all through her pregnancy, and it had not waned.

By the end of the feast the Queen was far too tired for a meeting, as was the King, and the hour had grown late. It didn't truly matter than the meeting was postponed; Rhaegar had already achieved half of what he set out to Dorne to do. He had proved to Doran and the rest of the Martells that he was not his father, that he did not have aspirations of taking over or laying siege, and that he was of sound mind. He may be young, and he may have over indulged in the feast, but they didn't seem to mind that he had a good time. In fact, it probably did more for their camaraderie with Dorne than his father's snobbish treatment ever had.

"I'm going to trip," Cersei's voice startled him out of his thoughts as they made their way up the darkened stairwell to the tower. They were flanked by Kingsguard of course, and Rhaegar motioned to one somewhat jerkily.

"Help her up," he half-slurred, "Pick her up," he suggested after a moment.

The man raised an eyebrow and lifted the Queen, carrying her up the steps to their rooms and setting her back to her feet at the door. He and the other guard took up their places on either side of the double doors.

Cersei turned and took Rhaegar's hand, drawing him into their rooms and letting the heavy doors swing shut with resounding clang against their hinges. He kissed her once the door was shut, and worked his fingers into the light silks of her dress. It soon was joined by his robe on the floor, and then their small clothes before they fell into bed.

It was clumsy, their kisses uneven and desperate. He had wanted her since the journey began, having not had her since Daena, and she evidently shared the desire. Though it had been months, they fell into a familiar and eager rhythm, and after mere moments collapsed into the bed, a crumpled heap on the silken sheets and pillows.

When they woke in the morning the desert heat struck first, and they were all but stuck together. Cersei laughed and she pushed at her husband. "Rhaegar," she hummed, "My king…" she ran her hands up his spine, rolling out from underneath him. The sea breeze was warmer than she expected, and she walked to the window with nothing but her waist-length hair to cover her.

When Rhaegar opened his eyes it was to the view of his wife backlit by the midmorning sun, and one he wished he could save forever. "Cersei," He mumbled, her name strung out on his lips.

"We're supposed to speak with the Prince in an hour," she hummed, "Out of bed, my King. Or you'll not make a very good impression. And isn't that why we're here?"

"Too early to be clever," The King grumbled with a laugh, watching her as she turned to him, thinking she was going to rejoin him when she walked out of sight. "I had them draw us a hot bath," she hummed from out of his line of sight, and with a sigh the King ambled out of bed and walking into the attached room, seeing his Queen already immersed in a large tub.

The visit turned out to be largely pleasure and very little business. Doran and Rhaegar met about shipping rights and wine taxes for all of an afternoon while Cersei got to see the Shadow City (or what little of it there truly was to see) beyond the castle walls.

They spent the first week about Sunspear, as apparently there was little else to see but sand in Dorne. Rhaegar was persuaded to visit the vineyards, and the King and Queen drank themselves content on the finest Dornish wines. The next week they were shown around the deserts, though Cersei cared nothing for it. She went to water gardens a day ahead of Rhaegar in company of Prince Doran.

"The Water Gardens are my favorite place in this world," The Prince told her, and Cersei smiled brightly. She much preferred him to his younger brother, his more quiet nature reminding her of both her father and her husband. She found it comforting. "They are where many children are raised, here in Dorne, but I enjoy them just as much. And I think you will as well."

She did. They rode the short three leagues to the private palace, and she was shown about the gardens before her rooms. Seeing them made her truly wish she had brought Daena. Numerous children played in the pools and around them, ran down the marble pathways and into buildings. It was chaotic, and yet innocent and calmingly peaceful at the same time. Cersei sat next to Prince Doran and hummed. "I wish there were a place like this in King's Landing," she mused, "I can… picture my daughter here."

"You're welcome to bring her if you should visit again," Doran smiled softly, "Dorne is different from the rest of the Kingdoms. I am surprised you like it so well, My Queen, since the Westerlands are nothing like it."

She chuckled softly. "Perhaps that is why I like it so much. Maybe… my mother might have known. She had once thought I should marry Oberyn." She shook her head, "Having met him now…"

"It would not have been a good match," Doran nodded. "I cannot picture my brother married to anyone, least of all a woman such as yourself. I mean no offense by that. You two are simply very different."

The Queen nodded, letting out a sigh. "I have been very lucky, I think."

"You're the Queen, of course you have!" Doran laughed, watching her, "Ah. But it's more than that. You do love the King don't you? And a rare thing that is, in a highborn lady's marriage." He paused, looking out at the sea. "Be careful, my queen. Love sours like wine in the sun"

She looked up at him in sharp surprise, but before she could ask if he meant his own marriage, several girls approached them. The elder three bowed, all save one who carried a toddler in her arms.

"Ah, Arienne." Doran hummed, though Cersei knew not which girl he meant. At first she assumed the others were Highborn as well, until she considered.

"And Oberyn's daughters?" She asked quietly.

"Yes, my Queen," One of the older girls smiled. "I'm Arienne Martell, and these are the Sand Sisters." The other girls smiled, and Cersei found herself unsure of what to do next. She hadn't been brought up to expect to be greeted by bastards. But seeing the little one a smile tugged at her lips, despite herself.

"Your father was telling me of you four," she nodded, "Lovely to meet you all." Her smile was only partially false, but she shifted uncomfortably on the stone bench. The second youngest one, seven, if she recalled, looked up at her. "You're prettier than I thought you would be," She giggled, "I like your hair."

Cersei stared at her for a moment and then laughed softly. "Why thank you, little one."

She spent the day in the water gardens with all five girls, or at least four when the eldest wandered off. And when Rhaegar and Oberyn arrived that night, both were surprised to find her telling Sarella and Tyene stories.

When they left the water gardens a week later, the girl's were sad to see her go. Nymeria and Arienne had made her a crown of water lilies and braided it into her hair, and she kept it in until they returned to sunspear.

"You enjoyed the visit more than I thought you would," Rhaegar hummed as they broke their final fast in the Spear tower.

"I did," Cersei nodded, "Prince Doran reminds me of you and father. We get on well."

The King nodded. He had seen it, and he presumed much of the reason the visit had been such a success was her rapport with the elder Martell bother. "He has extended an invitation to you if you would ever want it. Dorne is a safe place to be, Cersei. Should we ever end up in a war, it would be prudent to send you here."

She arched a brow. "Are you planning a war?"

"No," he scoffed, "But it's also a good place to travel in the winter. King's Landing gets cold, and full of beggars." he saw her nose turn up slightly, and laughed. "Precisely."

Cersei rolled her eyes and laughed softly. "I wouldn't leave you, Rhaegar. Though if it ever does come to a war I may consider it. I can weather a winter."

The return journey to King's Landing was worse than the initial voyage. Though Rhaegar seemed to fare far better, Cersei spent nearly the entirety of the journey sick to her stomach.

Rhaegar watched her, smoothing back her hair and having servants bring her tea and wafers, but little soothed her. After the fourth day he sat next her and rubbed her back. "Cersei," He murmured, "Do not take offense, but when was the last time you bled?"

There was a pause, and then Cersei laughed. "You don't think… so soon?"

"I don't see why not," he shrugged, "I had you often while we were in Dorne, and you've been unusually sick."

She closed her eyes and thought for a moment, "it could be. I did not bleed on the visit."

He nodded and took her hand, kissing her fingers. After a moment he turned to kiss her, caressing her cheek. He had learned after the last time that it was better to focus on Cersei, on the miracle that she was giving him and not on the prophecy that she was helping to fulfill. So unlike the last time he kissed her deeply and rested his hands on her stomach.

"I hope..." She murmured against his lips. "I hope it's a boy this time. A Prince."

"A prince or a princess. It matters not to me," he promised, his hands remaining over her stomach as he kissed her brow. This time he would not spend the first months with his wife embittered and distant. Instead the king doted on her, worshipping her in bed and out of it. For the first several months she still carried Daena about, but soon it became too cumbersome.

Earlier than before the queen soon no longer fit her stylish dresses, but in the heat of summer she wore silks and Dornish gowns that gathered beneath her full breasts and accommodated the swell of her stomach. But her sheer size worried her. "This can't be normal." She sighed as the older septa dressed her, measuring out silks for her gown for a feast.

"How far are you?" The older woman smiled, switching fabrics.

"Pycell claims about 5 months," the Queen nodded, running her fingers over the gold embroidery.

The woman rested a hand on her arm with a bright smile. "Two, then. You will have two."

The certainty in her voice startled Cersei, but she wasn't entirely surprised by the words. She had never been this large with Daena, this early at least, nor had she been this sickly and tired. But two... It made a sort of sense. Still, Cersei didn't tell Rhaegar, and kept the possibility close to her heart. She was still fearful that she would bear more girls, and that there would never be an heir for the kingdoms.

She needn't have worried

Her twins came as the white ravens announcing autumn were sent out, in quick succession of each other after a surprisingly brief labor. Both boys screamed louder than Daena had in her entire short life, but were healthy.

Cersei lay back in the birthing bed with one of the boys in her arms, the room still dimly lit with early morning light. "They look like you," she mused, the exhaustion clear in her voice. She could barely keep her eyes open as she held the first boy, his eyes already open and peering up at her. "Except... Well."

The twins had mismatched eyes. Each painfully bright in it's own color, but one violet and the other Cersei's own emerald. It was startling, but the maesters claimed they were healthy.

"They're perfect," Rhaegar grinned, kissing her hair softly. The boy in his arms was the louder of the two, making soft noises as his father held him. "And hungry, by the sound of it..."

He placed the boy in her arms and Cersei attempted to nurse both twins. It wasn't as easy as with Daena but she managed, though Rhaegar had his doubts. "We might need a wet nurse this time, you've not yet weaned Daena and with two more..."

She nodded, her eyes already closing again.

"...You're going to need the help." He finished, running his fingers through her hair and rubbing her scalp, soothing her.

The dragon must have three heads, and he had them. Cersei had given him three perfect children in barely a year and he could not love her more for it. Not only that... But she had satisfied the realm, by giving him heirs. Two, no less. But it was more than that. Rhaegar knew that most marriages were not like his own. Most high lords did not consider their wives allies and companions beyond the making of heirs. Most scoffed at the way he treated his wife. Most had little care for their younger children, even less if they were girls, and would not dote on Daena the way he did. His was not just a family in name but in practice and he adored all that had come to be. It further proved to him he was not like his father.

Without realizing it Rhaegar too fell asleep, still sitting in a chair beside his wife, their sons curled on her chest. Cersei woke first, smiling adoringly down at the boys. "You need names," she hummed, glancing over at Rhaegar. "And your father is asleep."

"Not...asleep," the King muttered, forcing his eyes open and to focus on her. "What were you saying?"

"Names, love," she laughed, glancing down at her sons.

"Of course," he smiled, waking more and taking one- he wasn't sure which- from her. "You should name one of them. They may be Targaryens but they have as much Lannister blood..."

She was shaking her head and he stopped. "Look at them. They already look like you. They're Targaryen children. They need Targaryen names." Else she would feel too close to Jaime, who had always wanted them to have twins of their own. Lannister twins were one soul torn in two, and she would not wish that on her sons. After a pause she looked up at him, a slight furrow on her brow. "Your prophecy. The prince that was promised?" He gave a surprised nod. They hadn't spoken of it for nearly a year. "Well... They need strong Targaryen names. And the three heads of the dragon... Aegon Targaryen. That's what we'll name the first one," she smiled, reaching out to rest her hand on the blanket covered back of the newborn Rhaegar held. "Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name."

Surprised, but delighted, Rhaegar grinned down at the boy. "Aegon. Even your father would approve. And for the other?"

She laughed softly at the mention of her father. "We are not naming our son Tywin. But... It should sound similar enough to Aegon." He trusted her, in that. She was the one with the twin brother after all.

"Aemon?" She wrinkled her nose and he laughed. "Okay. Um... Well, not Aerys. God no." His expression darkened for a moment and he shook his head. "What about Aerion? It has a bit of Lannister to it as well..."

She nodded slowly and looked down at the boy nestled against her chest. "Aerion. Aegon and Aerion Targaryen."

In the next month the Capitol prepared for a feast to rival that of the royal wedding. It was Rhaegar's choice, one that Cersei protested vehemently. Or as vehemently as she could when she spent at least half of each day with the children. Dany was walking and talking now, quite the tiny terror. She really only listened to Cersei, and had discovered that if she managed to find the blonde woman before anyone else found her, she wouldn't get scolded

"Sei!" She chirped, running to the queen in the pavilion on chubby legs. "Sei! Sei! Sei!"

Cersei laughed and set Daena on the chaise, stepping closer and scooping the tiny princess up. At all of three she was closer to the queens own children than her brothers, and the queen treated her as such. Dany sat beside Daena and giggled, playing with the princess. Though Dany was a year older, the two were inseparable at this age.

Cersei watched then while they played, Daena following Daenerys as best she could while still unsure in her footing.

The twins had wet nurses, though they were still outside with the Queen and she doted on them as much as she could. Lying back on the chaise Cersei pulled the boys onto the lap and let then make a mess of her hair. A loud commotion drew her attention to the far side if the garden and the horse lane there. Viserys was coming through, obviously out of control of his horse. Even if Cersei hadn't already hated the boy, the sight of him careening toward them on horseback would have frightened her.

In a second she had stood and grabbed the twins, the nurse grabbing Daena and her guard Dany. They moved just in time for the horse to hit the pavilion and Viserys to go flying off, underfoot.

"Seven Hells!" Cersei screamed, jumping back further and nearly dropping Aerion as the pavilion fell, the startled horse shaking off the debris and running off.

After a stilled, choking silence settled on the gardens, the Kingsguard rushed forward and started to pull back the pieces of the wreck.

Cersei didn't realize she was shaking until they escorted them away from the scene and she could barely walk. It wasn't that she cared for Viserys... Not in the least. But seeing that... She felt arms around her and startled further. The twins were no longer in her arms, and she panicked further, trying to get out of the arms around her.

"Cersei! Cersei!" Jaime's voice. It cut into her thoughts as he pulled her closer to his chest and tried to stop her shaking. "Cersei. Calm down! You're safe. Your children are safe."

She shook in his arms and tears streamed down her cheeks. There was debris in her long hair, and a tear in her dress though she was otherwise unharmed. He turned her and cradled her against his armor. "Cersei... You are fine. Listen to me. The twins and Daena and the princess are in the nursery. They are shaken, but fine. You need to calm down. Now." It didn't seem to make a dent in her panic, and she was hiccupping on each breath.

Jaime pulled her tighter to him though the armor could not have been comfortable. She eventually calmed, looking up at him. "Where are the children?" It was more if a demand than a question, and Jaime watched as Cersei hardened into his queen before his eyes. She drew herself up and walked to the nursery.

That was where Rhaegar found her several hours later, on Daena's small cot surrounded by all four children. He sat at the edge of the bed and caressed her hair, holding Daenerys in his lap.

"Rhaegar?"

He glanced at Cersei and saw her sit up, managing to avoid sending their three moons old sons into a crying fit by waking them. "Yes," he breathed, frowning as he held his sister. "Viserys... They couldn't do anything." The boy had been crushed to death, beneath the pavilion and the horse's hooves. He had heard the report from a number of witnesses, and he didn't need to hear what Cersei had to say. Obviously she was shaken enough.

She reached up and caressed his cheek. "I'm so sorry, my love..." He leaned into her hand though he knew Cersei had not cared much for the boy. Honestly, neither had he, but he was still of his blood. And to die in such a way...

"Are you alright?" He asked abruptly. "I know you barely missed being hit." Losing his brother was one thing, losing Cersei or one of his own children another entirely. The boy was troublesome and dangerous, mean to his sister and Daena. No one in the Capitol would mourn him, as they would have anyone else.

Cersei looked down at the children for a moment and nodded. "I will be. I... I believe I was in shock for a while. It... It's a bit unclear."

Watching her he could see that she wasn't all okay, and sighed. " I spoke with ser Jaime. He told me... You were in panic Cersei." He didn't mean to offend her; merely that he was worried for her.

"Of course I was," she whispered. "If I hadn't been watching..."

"But you were. And I won't let anything happen to you."


	6. Tiptoe Through Our Shiny City

*****Trigger warning for spousal abuse, if that is disturbing to you don't read the second half, also trigger warning for miscarriage, if that is disturbing to you don't read the first half*****

Winter struck sooner than predicted, and with a ferocity that dumped snow as far south as the mountains of Dorne. With the snows and the howling winds, it seemed all of Westeros retreated to their holdfasts, and the capitol was strangely still and silent. The long summer before it meant they were in for an even longer winter, and the children would spend the first few years with the sight of King's Landing covered in snow.

Whereas before she had walked around the gardens with the children and entertained visitors, Cersei seemed to take a more avid role in Winter's simpler politics, though she still spent hours with their young children.

It was her first harsh winter in memory, for those before it had been mild. Or maybe it was the sea air near the Rock, but winter in King's Landing seemed a miserable affair. The Red Keep was never warm enough, and even in her rooms deep inside the palace she shivered. Her handmaidens took to keeping the fire stoked day and night, for the Queen constantly shivered and sneezed.

The children though seemed to love the snow, even the twins though they were just discovering walking. Since Cersei rarely went out of the castle walls, Rhaegar and Jaime would take them to play in the thick snows while Cersei watched as best she could from the Keep.

"Was the winter always this hard on her?" Rhaegar asked Jaime as they built castles in the snow for the twins to smash.

Jaime paused and shrugged. "I do not think so. But the winters in Casterly Rock were more wet than cold. She never liked to go out much in winter though." Rhaegar was tolerable, now. He'd been married to Cersei more than two years, and Jaime had never seen any cause to be alarmed by the King. He cared for Cersei, and he doted on her, even in moods that Jaime found taxing.

The King nodded and let out a sigh. "I'm worried. This will be a long winter, and if she's…"

"Cersei is stronger than she looks," Jaime shrugged.

"But still… if she should worsen…"

He stared at the King and shook his head. "There isn't a point to worrying over this. What can you do?" He laughed, rolling his green eyes. "Not even the King can change the weather, Rhaegar. And she's been fine. A little chill isn't anything to worry about for the winter."

The King sighed, watching his sons roll around in the thick snows gleefully. The snow didn't seem to bother the boys in bit, unlike their mother. And he did worry about her. She seemed to require sun and warmth to thrive, and though he knew that she hated to stay inside the Keep and to wrap herself in thick cloaks normally reserved for winters in the North, it was necessary. The last time she had joined him and Jaime in taking the children out in the snow her hands had turned an awful ashen grey after only minutes, and it had taken hours to warm her by the fire.

He tried to take his mind off her though, and scooped up Aegon. "Let's race your Uncle Jaime hmm? I bet we can beat him and your brother!"

"What is this?" The golden-haired man scoffed, lifting Aerion high into the air to a delighted laugh. The tiny boy already adored his uncle, and there were no doubts he would grow up to be a warrior. As the second son should, according to Tywin. "That's not true!" He tickled Aerion and then moved the boy to clutch the leather padding he wore beneath his golden armor.

Rhaegar rolled his eyes, and took off, stumbling through the snow with Aegon clutched tight to his chest. Jaime was letting him win, for he knew that the Lannister was terribly fast, and rather agile even through the snow. But his lead didn't last long, for Rhaegar tripped in the snow and fell into the mercifully soft layer of it onto his side. The flurries that went flying up didn't seem to bother Aegon though, and he laughed merrily, making excited mewling and cheering noise. At just six months, they weren't talking yet, but Aegon had mastered "mama" and "da" for Cersei and Rhaegar. Aerion was still babbling, and only his wet nurses pretended to understand him.

"You alright there, your grace?" Jaime teased, holding Aerion in one large hand as he offered the other to the King.

He took it, pulling himself up and nodding. "I'm fine. But we should take the twins in before they get too cold. Cersei would have my head if they got sick."

Both men laughed, bundling the children into their cloaks and carried them into the keep. It seemed they had perfect timing as well, for Aegon started to whimper, his little hands fisting in Rhaegar's doublet. "I think he's hungry," the king hummed, looking down at his son. "Shall we see if your mother is feeling well enough to feed you?"

It had been an ongoing struggle between Cersei's desire to nurse her own children, the demands of two infants, and her sporadic illness. The twins had spent much more time with wet nurses than Daena had, and Rhaegar could tell it weighed heavy in Cersei's heart.

They walked up to the Queens chambers, but were directed to the library. At least that meant she was feeling well enough to move about. For the past week she'd been in bed with some sickness or another, and not the first in this winter. Though she did her best to push through the bouts for him and the children, he knew that she was ill almost constantly. Still, it afforded him the opportunity to keep her warm in the nights, and made it much easier to find his wife when he knew she would be inside the Keep and most likely near the fire at all hours of the day. She seemed if anything more willing towards him, though he was sure there were those around the keep that doubted the possibility of that. But, in an odd turn of events, it was Rhaegar who was refusing her now. He wasn't going to take his rights, no matter how much his queen wanted him to, when she was sickly and exhausted. In truth, the King had spent as many nights attending to his wife as he had inside of her.

"Cersei?" Rhaegar called, stepping into the vast library with a mewling Aegon in his arms. Aerion was on his way to full fledged bawling, and the King could see Jaime's discomfort as he held the boy.

They walked through the room to the back, where a chaise was drawn up the fire. Draped over it were several blankets, and under those, his Queen. She seemed asleep, and before Rhaegar could gently rouse her, Jaime stepped beside him and tapped her cheek lightly. "Wake up, sweet sister, your spawn are hungry." He teased, causing the King to roll his eyes, and Cersei to startled in her sleep.

"Rude," she huffed, blinking her eyes as she woke, and finally fixing her gaze on the men. "Both?" She murmured, holding out her arms for the boys. Jaime moved first, placing Aerion in her arms, though he was careful with the boy, and his gaze lingered slightly too long. With a cough, he straightened.

"I'll leave you," he murmured, turning away. If Rhaegar hadn't been there, he may have stayed, even just for a glimpse of those breasts he missed, those that he had once considered his. As she had been his. His steps carried him quickly from her, and he waited at the door of the library like the good little guard dog he was now. Had he known that Cersei would be so happy with Rhaegar, would he have come to the capitol? Had he not seen it in that first meeting, how she adored the man? And now, with three royal children, what hope did he have of winning her?

Rhaegar watched the man go with an odd look. "Your brother has been… peculiar lately." He murmured, rocking Aegon as Cersei loosened the bodice of her dress and guided Aerion to her breast. She hadn't yet mastered nursing both twins; since it was rare she had the strength or time to. "Though Aerion seems to adore him no less."

"It must be the cold,' She murmured, not looking at him. Of course it wasn't the cold, Jaime had always loved the winter. It was how cold she had been to him, and how she avoided him. But what was she to do? "And it's good, that Aerion loves him. I would hope he could be a knight like Jaime someday, since Aegon will wear the crown."

"Already planning their lives, and they are not yet a year," Rhaegar laughed, sitting at the edge of the chaise. "Careful, Cersei. Perchance he'll want to be a scholar hmm? Or a Maester."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. "You wait, husband, our son will be a great warrior. Aegon as well, of course, but I expect you and father will keep him busy with learning the ways of ruling."

Rhaegar chuckled and smiled over at her, "I guarantee it. Though I wouldn't be so quick to disregard the second son, after all, if something were to happen, or Aegon does not want to rule, as second son Aerion would be expected to take the Iron Throne."

"And what of the third son?" She hummed, a small smirk on her face.

Rhaegar blinked. "Third son?"

Cersei stared at him a moment, still smirking, before she laughed. "Yes, third son. Your seed has flowered in my womb again, Rhaegar."

He paused for a moment and then grinned, the sort of goofy, crooked smile that she had first fallen for. He held Aegon in one hand and reached the other out to take Cersei's. "Truly?" He breathed, "Again?"

"Yes," she hummed, smirking again. "The Maesters said that my illness last week wasn't from the cold, but from the child-like with the twins. We will have another son, Rhaegar…" He could see the pride in her eyes as she eased Aerion from her breast, handing the babe to his father and taking Aegon. He had his three heads, his heir, his legacy, and still she was giving him children happily. In truth, he knew that their family mattered to her just as much as all of that, and that though it wasn't always clear; Lannisters prided their families and adored them. Cersei held her children close and protected them fiercely, even though she wielded no sword. He pitied any man foolish enough to threaten them.

"Another," he grinned, and leaned down to kiss her head. "Daena would be happy with a sister though, I think." He was just teasing her. She knew he would be happy with a son or a daughter, but it was the kingdom and lineage that often clouded his Queen's thoughts on the matter. With two sons though, what really was there for the third? Her father's lands at Casterly Rock possibly, though there was still her brother- the younger- to consider. Besides, Rhaegar was not particularly interested in involving himself anymore than he had to in Lannister family matters. But a daughter... There was the potential for alliances with daughters. Emissaries from the kingdoms and even across the narrow sea had already been visiting them in the summer months about Daena, though she was not yet three at the time.

Cersei, of course, abhorred the idea of treating their eldest child as a prized jewel to be owned by the most advantageously positioned lord. She had her fears for the fate of women, and she grasped the reality of it, a part of him knew that she would rather keep the girl in the capital than send her away. Would rather cater to Dornish custom on the matter and let her love and live a carefree life.

But this wasn't Dorne.

Still, the matter of Daena's betrothal was one to be settled at another moment, and not such a joyous one as this. Rhaegar kissed Cersei again, and then rested a hand behind her head to guide her to him. He rested his lips on her brow and smiled. "Another. A fourth child... Gods Cersei... You've no idea how happy you've made me."

"I do, my love," she breathed, "I'm just as delighted..."

When the twins had had their fill they carried them up to the nursery and then went to Cersei's rooms, the fire stoked high as they lay in front of it. The King wrapped an arm around the queen's waist. She was slim, for now, but he was well practiced in tracing the curve of her stomach. Cersei rested her head on his arm, nestled against his chest.

"We'll have a child in every of the kingdoms if we keep this up," he teased, caressing her side.

She rolled her eyes. "We will not. I don't plan to have nine children, Rhaegar. Let alone seven daughters."

He grinned. "Who knows? Nine isn't that many..." That got him a smack and he only laughed harder.

"You're not the one who births them!"

"Hmh..." He shrugged, "but you love them."

Cersei smiled, kissing his neck with a soft sigh. "I do. But we don't need nine children, that would be ridiculous. And I honestly don't think I'd enjoy it. Four, certainly, maybe five."

She'd been in bed a week, shaking and barely conscious and unable to keep anything down. The sickness built slowly, but the fever raged fast, and didn't seem to have any desire to break. No one could fathom where the queen had gotten it, some theorized poison, treachery, others blamed the stale winter air in the capital, or her evident predisposition to illness. But that didn't help them heal her of it.

"Maester Pycelle," the King sighed. Rhaegar hadn't slept for almost four days; he'd never left the Queens side except to tell the children what was going on. Thankfully they were too young to understand. "The child. What's- this can't be good for it."

"Probably not, no." The old man sighed, looking back at the bed where Cersei slept fitfully. "But she could make it through with the babe, Her Grace is a strong woman."

"Could make it through?" He frowned. The thought of her not making it, of losing either of them was beyond terrifying. Of course they already had three children, three healthy exuberant children. But after four moons they were rather attached to the fourth. But Cersei… he couldn't replace her. He couldn't even think of it.

"She's not sick enough yet for the fever to take her, your Grace.' Pycelle assured him. "But the babe…"

The babe didn't last the night. After another hour one of the handmaiden's screamed, and Pycelle left the king. There was a pool of blood between Cersei's thighs, soaking into the linens. The Queen herself wasn't screaming, but the tears rolling down her cheeks twisted on Rhaegar's heart. He walked to her side, reaching out for her hand, but she didn't respond.

"Cersei," He breathed, but she shook her head. Ignoring her, the king moved to kiss her cheeks, resting a hand against her head and guiding her to him. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, "I'm so, so sorry..."

She let out a sob and rested her head on his shoulder, shaking her head. "Why?" She breathed, "why would the gods do this to us?"

"I do not know the will or reason of the gods," he whispered, "but you... You don't deserve this. We don't..."

It seemed the gods didn't care what they deserved. Cersei started to fade next to him, and the Grand Maester paled at the blood, and ushered the king away. "She may... If this does not pass..." Pycelle murmured, and the fear that settled in Rhaegar's heart made him almost sick, though he held back. "Tend to your children, Your Grace." The Grand Maester advised, "tell your daughter what's happening, and prepare them-"

"Prepare them for what?" He hissed, standing and glaring at the older man. "The loss of their mother? How do you prepare them for that!"

The Maester backed up, frowning. "You could at least tell them, My King. Tell them as much as you can so they know to pray for her."

The king shook his head, resting a heavy hand on the Maesters cheek. "If you let her die..." He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. "Don't."

After that, Rhaegar didn't visit her. Jaime didn't visit her. The queen lived, she bled for another hour and then stopped, still crying softly but unwilling to speak. They asked her how she was feeling and she glared, they offered her food and she closed her eyes. After a week the Maester approached Rhaegar, who had taken to spending his days locked in his solar.

"Your grace..." He murmured, "excuse me, but..." He wrung his hands in his robes. "The queen survived, as you know... But she will not survive the winter like this, not eating, locked in her sickbed, refusing to speak."

The king didn't look up. "What would you have me do with her? She lost a child, I lost a _child _Pycelle."

"And you have done nothing but wallow in your sadness," The Grand Maester frowned, stepping back from the King. "All of the Seven Kingdoms know of your loss, Your Grace. And," He paused, seeming unsure of his words. "Doran Martell has offered an invitation to her Grace, should she wish to escape the cold, and the sorrow that has fallen over the Keep."

Rhaegar paused, halfway through the order he was signing. He hadn't slept, not since that night. He was forgoing food, unable to get her eyes, her blood, her tears, or his fear out of his head. Maester Pycelle claimed it could have been worse, that they were very lucky not to lose the queen. Intended to cheer him, it only made the kings dreams darken and sleep evade him. But the thought of letting her leave him… "No." He spoke with a firmness he didn't come close to feeling.

"Your Grace," The old man sighed, "It would be good for her. The Winter is not kind to our Queen… And it has yet to hit Dorne, the sun is still warm in the Water Gardens, the Prince writes…" Reaching into his robes he drew out a letter, pressing it onto the King's desk. "Think of her." He pleaded quietly.

As the Maester left, Rhaegar looked up, resting his hand over the letter. Through her tears Cersei had pleaded for the Rock, for her home, things he could give though he silently refused. Sending her away would only make it worse. They fell apart when separated. And yet there was a heaviness in his heart, for the thing she had truly begged for was her mother, and he could never give her that. He heard it first when the flood was still seeping from her body; the child freshly ripped from her and her sobs not yet words. His queen had never asked for anything he could not give, but when he heard her begging, praying even, for her mother and for home, something in the king broke.

"Seven Hells," He breathed, standing up from the desk and taking the letter, skimming it as he walked to the balcony of his solar. The wind bit into his skin and whipped his hair over his eyes, carrying ice with it. Cersei was the light of the sun, and this winter was killing her. She'd been nothing but sick even with the child, struck twice as hard by illness with the tax of the babe.

Doran wrote of warmth, of protection. Rhaegar didn't think there had ever been an invitation like this, to send a royal to Dorne for no other reason than the Prince pitied her plight. And he knew Cersei wouldn't last the winter if she refused to heal from this.

It was not an easy thing to send his beloved wife to the deserts of the south, letting her board a ship while their children stay with him in Kings Landing. They're but three and two, and don't yet know the pain that shrouds the castle.

She didn't understand. One minute she was peacefully lounging in bed, her thoughts adrift on the great sea of snow that had become her life as of late (silent, quaint, undisturbed) and the next her long forgotten handmaidens were sweeping into the rooms, throwing the blankets off her sore body and ushering her into a bath.

"King's orders, your Grace," one of the girls explained, her voice hushed. All their voices were hushed, as if the Queen would startle at a moment's notice, or a loud noise could send her into dust, like a wave on the sand. Ridiculous, and annoying, but Cersei had no words.

Not even the words to ask why, or what the orders were, what feast or visit she was being readied for when she was still not strong enough to walk. The child had left her, but the sickness had not, and her head swam with fatigue as she was bathed, dressed, brushed and braided and laced into her corset and skirts. The girls wasted no time and no breath on speaking to her, and before she could wrap her head around all of it their soft hands and careful steps were replaced by the chill of armor and the clang of metal, Jaime's strong arms lifting her and guiding her gods knew where. At least, she thought it was Jaime, but all she recognized was the armor and the white cloak.

Truly, what most noticeably stuck in her mind was that none of these people were Rhaegar.

_He must hate me now_, she thought, _for losing the babe_. Three heads were not enough; three children in two years would never be enough for any man, let alone the king. He could say all the pretty words and sing her all the songs he wanted, but words were empty and music ephemeral. His actions spoke for him. Not once in the week had she heard from him, or seen him. Not even the children.

And now she was being hidden away, sent away out of sight where he could forget about his broken bride, not yet five years his wife. Lioness or not, Cersei was no match for the Winter, and she barely had the strength left to be saddened by the turnabout.

Leaning against the chest of metal of the man that held her, the Queen let them carry her, only sitting up when she was ushered to her feet, vision blurred by the sudden movement. Someone slipped one of the thick fur cloaks over her shoulders, the kind lined with soft beaver against her bare skin and thick bear fur on the outside. She recalled, fleetingly, that the northmen said no one would wear that cloak in the north, that even by their standards it was excessive. But it barred the cold from her skin and kept her as warm as the fire inside had.

Cersei found herself in a litter without so much as a word, the kingsguard that had been carrying her seated across from her. Though she could make out his armor, her energy did not extend to giving her a clear view of his face. "Jaime?" She assumed, but was only rewarded with a warm laugh.

"No, your grace. Ser Arthur Dayne, at your service." The man spoke, and Cersei recalled his face, though she did not see it.

About to reply, a cough took her, and she nearly jolted off the bench of the carriage they had laid her on, barely breathing with how the coughs wracked her. After a moment she found herself in Ser Arthur's arms, his hands running over her back. "Breathe, your grace," He murmured, "We'll be in Dorne soon, and the heat should heal what ails you."

"Dorne?" She coughed, nearly choking on the word.

Ser Arthur nodded; Cersei could feel it against her hair. "Yes. The King and Prince Doran agreed the sun would do you good."

Dorne. Out of sight, out of mind. _He's rid of me now. _

Ser Arthur Dayne had promised to keep the Queen alive on the trip. Since the woman seemed to be a wisp of a thing now, barely able to walk on her own, he knew it would be no easy task, but they had forgotten to mention the seasickness. In Winter the swells rose higher, and he thought he would lose her then and there. The ship was damp and dank despite the Lannister gold that bought it, and that only aided the Queen's illness. He did what he could, but knights were not Maesters, and he was easily twice as relieved as she was when they neared land.

"My Queen," He murmured, before resting a hand on the woman's bony shoulder. She couldn't keep a scrap of food down now, and was wasting away. All he received in reply was an exhausted groan, so he scooped her and her cloak up once more. The thing weighed more than she, he was sure, and it was no wonder she rarely stood when it was placed over her shoulders.

Despite his delight at being back in Dorne, finally, a fear gripped his heart for the woman in his arms. Rhaegar should never have sent her away so early, not when she was struck so hard by illness. But the man was not the same that had taken the throne years prior, nor the same that had wed the proud daughter of House Lannister in the Sept. Nor was she the same.

They were taken to the Palace, and from there she was taken from him.

"Ser Arthur?" He turned to face the younger Prince of Dorne, bowing slightly.

"Prince Oberyn, how may I help you?"

The man smirked at him and led him down the breezeway. "I simply wish to know how our Queen is faring. You travelled with her, did you not?" He paused, both men standing, backs lit by the warm sun. Even Arthur had to admit that this weather would be good for anyone, but particularly Cersei.

"She's ill," he shrugged. "She's been ill for almost the whole winter, but it was much, much worse with the babe. We were all surprised she made it, really. But you can't say that, because of Ser Jaime."

Oberyn hummed in thought. "If her illness is so terrible, why would the King send her away?"

Ser Arthur frowned. "The Prince sent for her. Why would she have not come?"

"On their last visit the King seemed very attached to his lovely wife, is all…" He began to walk away, and Ser Arthur chose not to follow. It was an odd thing, what had happened with the King and Queen. He'd seen her refuse her husband through the open doors as the babe left her, but in the following days he'd seen her ask for Rhaegar and only Jaime visit her. And even he stopped.

On his way up to the sunrooms, where they were placing the Queen, he dragged his feet. Visiting Cersei was no easy task, though after so long spent with her on the ship and the journey he was at least less of an affront to her. No one but the King and her own family regularly wanted to see her when she was sick, but he pitied the woman. His had been the only kind face she'd seen in weeks, even before they left.

"...You should come visit us, your grace," he heard a girls voice, and when he walked through the archway saw all of Oberyn's bastards surrounding the queen. She barely looked awake, but had not sent them away.

Stepping into the room further, he knocked on the door. "I think it would perhaps be better if you girls left her grace until she feels a bit better."

The girls seemed to startle at his voice, but the queen merely sighed. "They're fine, Ser Arthur," she drawled. "I will admit being visited is a welcome change." The look she gave him made him stop, lowering his gaze in a respectful nod. It would do her good, this place. The heat, children who adored her and comfortable days lounging by the water gardens. He could hardly fathom she'd want to leave.

"As you wish, your grace." He hummed. The girls grinned, the littler ones re-joining her on the bed. In Kings Landing it was easy to forget that the queen was but a woman of 21 years, but here with the girls she seemed younger, lighter.

Upon his leave he wrote a letter to the King, informing him that they'd arrived, and that Cersei already seemed improved.

Storms End was being battered by the worst storm in fifty years when Lyanna brought her third child into the world. Lyanna labored twelve hours to birth the babe, another son just to be dragged about by his father. If it were a boy like the last two Robert would expect it to be just like him.

"My Lady," came the Maesters voice, "you have a girl."

Lyanna opened her eyes, allowing herself to feel happy. She held out her arms to take the babe. Unlike her two older brothers the little girl wasn't wailing anymore. Instead she merely stared at Lyanna with big blue eyes.

"Would you like me to send for Lord Baratheon so you can name the child?" Asked the Maester.

Lyanna shook her head, "No, tell him her name is Meera." She would not let Robert claim this child; she would have this babe, this girl, all to herself.

Robert paid no attention to his daughter. He barely acknowledged her except for the first night after her birth. He raged for hours about Lyanna giving her daughter a northern name, reminding her that his child was a Baratheon.

Lyanna cowered in the corner, trying not to cry, it only got worse if she cried.

She took to hiding herself in the nursery everyday, partly to escape Robert, and partly to protect Meera.

Within a week of his sister's birth Joffrey hated his sister. He pushed her about and called her slow and stupid, Gendry did his best to stand up for his little sister but he was a year younger than his brother. Both were large boys, but Joffrey was larger.

Lyanna had grown to hate Storms End and everything about it. She couldn't stand the constant rains battering the walls and the way the wind howled outside the walls. To her it was never warm. Not like Winterfell, where even on the harshest winter nights the laughter and joy of children carried through the halls and the family ate by a roaring fire.

At night she dreamed of Winterfell, of her childhood, of days past. She wanted to ride through the snow with a crown of blue winter roses atop her head. She wanted to spar against Benjen in the Godswood. She wanted to pray in front of the heart tree with Ned. She wanted the freedom that her father had given her, and the joy that each of her brothers had brought her in turn. But all that was gone and she would never get it back.

A month after Meera's birth Robert finally asked to meet the child. Lyanna carried her up the swirling steps of the central tower to her husbands solar. He was sitting before the fire, drinking.

"Bring her here," Robert said without any feeling.

Lyanna walked over to Robert, passing over the delicate bundle that was her daughter. Robert took the girl awkwardly in his arms. He squinted at her, as if trying to find something to prove she wasn't his.

After what felt and eternity he finally spoke, "She's pretty enough I guess."

Lyanna nodded, not wanting to speak.

"We had better get on finding her a husband." Said Robert, at that Lyanna found her voice.

"Rhaegar wrote me of a good match for her in Pentos. I had him arrange it for Meera."

Robert glared at his wife; "You're marrying her off to some foreign scum?"

Lyanna glared at her husband, she had asked for the match because she wanted her daughter as far from Storms End and Joffrey's cruelty as possible, but she couldn't tell her husband that.

"Rhaegar wants us to have good relations with the free cities. He thought that if their most wealthy were tied to us then trade would be easier."

Robert shrugged, "Well it saves me the trouble of finding her a bride."

Then he handed the babe back and dismissed his wife.

Robert went back to ignoring his daughter after that, but he didn't ignore his wife. He grew increasingly angry at her for not giving him a third son, insisting that a Baratheon would never have less than three sons.

Every day he stomped off to his whores and Lyanna hated him. She wrote Cersei constantly of her life, telling her of her husband, but she never let herself cry. She told herself she would be strong, she told herself she could hold it in.

That was until he hit her.

She had gone out for a ride without his permission. He had told her that she must stay in during the winter to avoid getting hurt but Lyanna couldn't take the cramped walls of the castle. She was a Northern wolf and a little rain and wind was not enough to scare her.

When she returned from a ride drenched and breathless with joy Robert was waiting for her in her chambers.

He raged at her for almost half an hour telling her that she was endangering herself, and if she was so reckless maybe she shouldn't spend time with the children. Lyanna stood there and took it, and then he said something she would never forgive.

"I will not have you damaging the Baratheon name so!" He roared. At that Lyanna couldn't control herself, she laughed.

"You have already hurt the Baratheon name beyond repair with all your drinking and whoring!" She would not let him tell her that she was the un-honorable one; she was a Stark of Winterfell.

Robert struck her then. His hand connected firmly with her cheek and sent her to the floor. Lyanna didn't let herself cry out, she bit her cheek and she held back her tears.

Rising to her feet she glared at her husband and spat, "I shall remember this, the North never forgets."

Then she left the room while behind her Robert told her he was sorry and that he loved her, but Lyanna knew better, and she knew that she would hate her husband forever for this.

She found her way to the nursery where Gendry and Meera were playing. Unable to control herself any longer Lyanna collapsed on the floor and cried. Meera and Gendry crawled over to her wrapping their little arms around her, and Lyanna vowed that her husband would never hurt her children, and they would never be under his control.

He hit her again a week later. He came into her rooms that night stinking of wine and some whore's perfume. Lyanna was sleeping in her chambers dreaming of Winterfell when the door banged open startling her from her sleep.

Her first thought was that the castle was under attack and she must protect her children. She was about to rise from the bed when a drunken voice spoke.

"Lyanna," he murmured.

Lyanna's whole body tensed, Robert was back in her chambers most likely after another child. He claimed to love her yet nothing he had ever done showed this. He preferred his whores who would do exactly what he wanted.

Robert climbed on top of her smelling of strong wine, he tried to kiss her bit Lyanna forced his face away with her hand.

"Robert, no." She pleaded.

"Lyanna," he murmured trying once more to kiss her.

Lyanna rolled away from him, standing quickly when she reached the edge of the bed, "Not tonight, you're drunk." She said backing towards the door.

Robert growled from the bed, "Get back here, woman."

Lyanna shook her head. Finding the door she pushes it open and went sprinting down the hall. Her feet took her to the nursery. She barred the door and curled up on the floor, her body shaking with sobs. She lay there until the aim rose through the window and at last her tears dried.


	7. We Have the Fire Now

As winter neared its end Rhaegar had all but had it with Kings Landing. Without Cersei to sit with him through council meetings he had nothing to do. All the Lords he handled so well normally had him constantly on edge and he knew that he was close to an explosion.

After some deliberation Rhaegar decided to take his children and flee to Dragonstone for a week.

Having persuaded Tywin to watch the capital and run things for the week, Rhaegar loaded the children into a boat and set out for Dragonstone.

Rhaegar spent the journey inside of his cabin, attempting to avoid being sick. His children, however, were a different story. Aegon and Aerion spent the entire voyage running around pushing and playing and making all the crewmembers lives hell. Daena was more subdued but spent almost every waking moment on the prow of the ship watching the water and leaning over the edge in search of dolphins. Needless to say, Rhaegar was glad when they reached the ancient Targaryen seat because he would at least be able to control his children.

All four Targaryens benefited from the time away from the capital. Aerion and Aegon spent their time climbing over the islands rocks and up the sides of the great dragons. For the first day Daena pretended she didn't want to join them, but by the second she was leading them in their climbing.

That night Rhaegar showed them the dragon's eggs. They had been a gift from some wealthy merchant in Pentos or Qarth at the feast celebrating the birth of Aegon and Aerion. He had given them to the twins and Rhaegar had chosen to take them to Dragonstone, since it was the seat of the Targaryens. The dragon eggs were beautiful. They were black, green, and white all with intricate designs along the outside. The children spent a good hour marveling at them and holding them. That night all they could do was talk about how they wished they could ride on dragons like the three conquerors had done generations ago.

That night Aerion couldn't sleep; he kept rolling back and forth thinking about the eggs. A little before midnight he had an idea. "Aegon!" He hissed. "Aegon, get up!"

His brother's response was to roll away in protest. Aerion climbed on top of him forcing his eyes open.

"Aegon, I have a really good idea so wake up now!" He hissed.

"Fine!" Said his brother as he pushed him off and sat up. "What are we doing?" He asked.

"It's a surprise, come on!" Snapped his brother, dragging him down the hall.

When they reached Daena's room Aerion left his brother in the hall and slipped in to wake his sister. A few minutes later the two emerged, Daena still looking half asleep and glaring at her brother.

Still neither sibling protested as Aerion led them through the castle to the Sept. Inside they found the eggs where they had been before arranged before the Father, Warrior, and Maiden.

"Aerion what are we doing?" Snapped Daena.

"Just take one!" Said Aerion stepping forward to the Warrior and taking the green egg sitting there. Daena walked to the Maiden taking the white egg there and Aegon claimed the black egg from the feet of the Father.

After that they followed Aerion down to the beach where that day the battered and broken hull of a great fishing vessel had washed ashore. The name printed on the side was_ King Valyria_.

"We have to light it on fire!" Said Aerion.

"Are you crazy?" Was his sister's immediate response.

"He's right," said Aegon who had finally caught on, "We are the blood of old Valyria and the three heads of the dragon. It is our job to birth the dragons as the Targaryens of old did."

Daena nodded after a moment, finally understanding. Then she proceeded to help the boys light the wreck afire.

Aerion had brought along flints, so it only took them ten or so minutes to have the old ship roaring in flames.

Aegon took a deep breath and walked forward, his siblings falling in instinctively on either side. None of them feared the flames as they entered them holding their dragon eggs, instead the embraced the fire and walked straight to the hottest part of the flames.

Rhaegar was woke by shouting, the minute he opened his eyes he knew something was wrong. Sitting up in bed, he dashed to the window and looked outside. The old ship that had washed ashore was on fire, it's flames the pale blue that accompanied driftwood.

Rhaegar hurried from the room down to the beach and watched in awe as the flames spiraled higher and higher. It was a truly majestic sight, until the Septon came running.

"Your Grace, Your Grace!" He called.

Rhaegar turned to look at him and saw his eyes wide with fear, "What?"

"Your Grace... The children... They aren't in their rooms... And the dragon eggs... They're gone!"

"What!" Rhaegar screamed. He glanced frantically toward the flames. He shouldn't have made this trip so public; someone had captured his children, killed them, and thrown their bodies into the flames. They must have stolen the dragon's eggs as payment for their deeds.

Rhaegar collapsed on the rocky beach, his tears began to flow down his cheeks, and he was unable to control himself. Around him he could hear the people murmuring, both at him and at the flames but he didn't care. His children were gone. His children were dead. Cersei was going to kill him.

One strange thing was that nobody could get close enough to the blaze to put it out. It seemed to have a will of its own, shooting long tendrils of flame up into the sky and sending great bursts to everyone who tried to get close to it before dawn, at which point the fire had burned low and as the sun rose over the gathered group and audible gasp could be heard.

Rhaegar looked up and felt his heart drop. His children were standing in the middle of the charred ship. All three were completely naked in the morning light. Not only that but all their hair had been burned completely away, leaving their scalps bare and shiny, however, other than that they were unharmed.

None of this was what was drawing the reaction from the assembled crowd. Instead it was the other thing appearing in the smoke with the children.

Daena held a pale white dragon in her arms as if it were her child. She cradled it with more affection than most mothers gave their children. Aerion's had wrapped itself around his upper arm, its green scales contrasting against his pale skin. Aegon, however, was the most terrifying. His dragon was perched on his shoulders with its wings spread wide, the light coming through its dark wings.

Rhaegar rose to his feet as around him everyone at once began to yell.

"The Dragons! The Dragons have returned!" They yelled, their voices swelling over the rocks.

Rhaegar couldn't help but smile. His children truly were the blood of the dragon, and they had brought their magic back into the world.

The sun was shining off the snow in the gardens of the Red Keep as Aerion ran down the cliff path. The long, winding, tree lined trail went all the way from the gardens of the capital to a little rocky outcropping at the edge of the bay. It was here that the children had chosen to train their dragons since the rocks would not be as flammable to the dragon fire as the plants.

When Aerion reached the base of the steps he was almost scorched in the face by flame.

"Daena!" exclaimed Rhaegar. One of the most important rules was making sure the fire had no chance of hurting anyone.

"Sorry!" Daena squeaked, "But it's not my fault he didn't announce himself."

Rhaegar agreed and began to lecture them once again about safety. For the past month it had been all he was able to talk about. He had allowed the children to bring their dragons to the keep, but he wouldn't let them in the gardens and insisted they were trained for at least two hours a day.

So far nobody really minded. Dany had told them the Valyrian word for fire, _Dracarys_. Since then they had been teaching the dragons to only breath fire when commanded.

Daena had named hers Dreamfyre, after Rhaena Targaryen's dragon. With it smooth white scales and gold swirls across its wings it was both strong and fierce at the same time as being delicate and feminine. Aerion's green and bronze dragon was named Rhaegal after his father and many other Targaryen's. So far he proved to be the most likely to fly, constantly testing out his wings. Aegon had named his Balerion after the first Aegon's dragon. His was as black as the original and there were several who said it was Balerion come again.

As Aerion made his way back to his dragon Daena succeeded once again in being able to shoot flames at the water, Dany applauded her.

When Aerion reached Rhaegal, the green dragon flapped a few feet of the ground, until he reached just above his father's knee. Dany had also taken to calling the three siblings the parents of their dragons and it was a trend that all three had adopted.

Aerion sat at the edge of the rocks and watched as Daena and Aegon had a contest to see which dragon could shoot fire further. He on the other hand was focusing on flight. Rhaegal was able to fly at least a foot above the others, which was useful when it came to their little play flights. As they grew the three became even more combative, though they all agreed that it was playful fighting and nothing too serious.

For the next hour they continued to watch the dragons until a very frightened page appeared.

"Your Grace," he said his timid eyes never leaving the dragons.

"Yes?" asked Rhaegar. He was always rather amused by the way the castle servants feared his children's pets.

"My lord, the sails of Her Grace's ships were just spotted, Queen Cersei will be docking in a hour."

All four children leapt to their feet clapping in excitement. The dragons opened their mouths and let out a few scratchy notes of dragon song. The page flinched at the noise but the children cheered it, they loved the dragon song.

Rhaegar smiled and dismissed the page, turning back to his sister and children.

"You had all best go get cleaned up," He told them. "I doubt Cersei will take well to seeing you all covered in dirt." The children nodded earnestly, Rhaegar decided it was best if Cersei didn't encounter her children for the first time since her return in public so he sent told them to wait for them in Meagors.

The children nodded, then went shooting up off the path. Rhaegar shook his head and followed them. He headed straight for the stables where his horse was saddled and waiting. Someone had known he would want to meet his wife at the waterfront.

He mounted and placed his crown on his head before he rose out through the gates of the Red Keep and started heading toward the docks.

Cersei had always hated the sea, but the voyage from Dorne had been particularly bad. They had been battered by constant heavy winds and Cersei had spent most of the time sick in her cabin. Not only that, but without Rhaegar or her children she had had virtually no comfort. Ser Arthur did his best, but he wasn't family, even if he'd scarcely left her side on the journey.

When the boat docked in Kings Landing it took all her self-control not to sprint from the ship onto dry land.

A crowd had gathered on the dock and many were holding flowers and cheering. When Cersei appeared on the deck they went wild, screaming and throwing flowers at her. The Queen smiled and waved as she made her way down the gangplank, but by the time she had reached the bottom her eyes had found Rhaegar and all she could see was him.

As quickly as she could while remaining dignified she went to him. He embraced her, pulling her flush to his chest as she leaned into him, breathing in his scent and feeling his muscles beneath his jerkin. It was a warmth she had missed even in the heat of the desert, a balm for the ache that had settled in once she realized her wrongs, how much she missed her husband. But all too soon he was pulling away and helping her on to her horse.

The ride through the city was filled with cheering people throwing flowers. Cersei waved and threw flowers that were tossed her way back into the crowed. It appeared the people had missed their Queen.

Once they reached the keep Rhaegar lead her to her own chambers, explaining that the children were already there.

Cersei stepped through the door and smiled at the sight of her children. Then she screamed.

She clutched at Rhaegar, staring at her children, more importantly at the top of their heads.

"Where is their hair?" She screamed. Rhaegar glanced and the ground, "Where is their hair?" She demanded.

It was Aerion who answered, "We burned it off mother."

"WHAT?" Cersei shrieked.

"Well it burned off when we walked into the fire." He explained.

Cersei rounded on her husband, "You let them walk into a fire?"

"Not exactly..." Said Rhaegar trying to think of the best way to explain. Sadly Aerion did it for him.

"Daddy didn't let us mother, we went into the fire on our own the birth out dragons!" And with that he held up Rhaegal.

The moment Cersei saw the dragon she lost it. "Seven Hells! Get that thing away from me!" She yelled as she jumped up onto the nearest chair and climbed onto a table.

"Cersei!" Rhaegar yelled, "Calm down! Calm down!"

Cersei was on the table trembling, "No lizards, I cannot stand lizards! A dragon is worse- it's a lizard with a pair of wings... So GET THOSE THINGS AWAY FROM ME!"

Rhaegar gently pulled his wife down off the table, "Don't worry they're harmless, the kids only shoot fire at the water."

At this Cersei nearly slapped him instead she merely hissed, "If those things are going to stay here then I am heading back to Dorne and staying there permanently."

She turned and stormed from the room leaving Rhaegar alone with three very confused children.

Aegon was hiding in the garden. It had been a month since the dragons were sent to Dragonstone to be kept safe and Cersei had forbidden her children to go out to the island no more than once every two months.

Aegon had taken to hiding in the garden, the snow of winter was melting and he liked watching the garden come back to life every day. Today he had climbed a tree in order to be alone with his thoughts, but there was one person he couldn't hide from, his brother.

Aerion was in the process of climbing up the tree. He wasn't nearly as experienced as his brother so it was taking him awhile, eventually when he was about ten feet below his brother he gave up and turned his head up to stare at his brother.

"You thinking about Balerion?"

"Ya."

"You miss him?"

"Duh."

"Wanna get revenge?"

Aegon looked down, "What sort?"

"Well mother is spending the whole day at the Sept with most of her handmaids."

Aegon rolled his eyes, "So what?"

"We can sheep shift mother!"

"Aerion!"

"She took our dragons!" Aerion glared up at his older brother, "Come on, you know you want to..."

Aegon waited a few seconds before nodding and climbing down out of the tree with his brother.

Sadly there were no sheep in the Red Keep so the brothers made their way to the stable. There they put horse dung into bags and snuck off to Meagors.

Their father almost caught them, as did Dany and Daena. But the twins were able to dive down side halls at the last minute in order to avoid them.

By the time they reached their mothers room both were exhausted from all the sneaking, but they proceeded to strip the bed and cut it open. As the stitched it up Aegon's cruel stitches had Aerion rolling on the floor with laughter. They finished much later than planned.

Just as Aerion and Aegon were preparing to leave they heard voices in the hall. The brothers dove behind a pair of curtains and crouched in hiding as the door opened.

Rhaegar followed Cersei into her chambers shaking his head. His wife had come back from Dorne with a headful of ideas, most of which he agreed with, but one he was against.

"I don't understand why it would be such a bad thing." Said Cersei firmly taking a seat at her table. "The Dornish are important to us and the girl is rather sweet."

"The girl is two." Rhaegar pointed out.

Cersei waved her hand, "Details. We need wives for the boys. We agreed neither of them could marry Daena, that's too dangerous. Plus with Daena securing the North for us with her marriage to Robb Stark, I think it's important that we secure the south."

"Cersei just to be clear, you are talking about marrying one of our sons to a two year old baby."

Cersei rolled her eyes, "Obviously they wouldn't get married right away."

Rhaegar sat down opposite his wife. "I thought Arianne's husband was of low birth."

"That beside the point!" said Cersei.

Rhaegar shook his head, "Not really, we can't have Aegon marry someone whose fathers name is Sand."

Cersei shrugged, "Then she can marry Aerion."

Rhaegar could see that his wife was not about to back down from this issue. Her time in Dorne had made her, if possible, even more stubborn and he had to admit that it was a good idea to tie the Martells back to the Iron Throne. They were basically still an independent kingdom and even with dragons, the Targaryens could not guarantee their loyalty.

"What did you say the girls name was?" He asked.

"Tyene Martell." Cersei told him.

"Isn't that a Sand Snake?" asked Rhaegar in shock.

"No," said Cersei, " She's just named after one."

Rhaegar rolled his eyes, "I doubt that makes a difference."

Cersei glared at her husband, "It does. We need the Martells, admit it."

"Fine! I admit it!" Rhaegar glared at his wife. "So what happens if we marry Aerion to her? What does he get?"

Cersei rolled her eyes, "Dorne!"

"Oh right, equal inheritance laws."

Cersei nodded, "It's the perfect situation. Not only that but there will be enough new families mixed in that their children can marry each other."

Rhaegar sighed in defeat, "Alright, I'll send a letter to Doran Martell proposing the match between Aerion and Tyene Martell."

With that Rhaegar stood and left the room.

Cersei rose to her feet and walked to the door, dropping the bolt across it. She then turned and walked over to her bed. She sat down rubbing her upper arms nervously. Something wafted into her nose. She paused and sniffed again.

Aerion and Aegon watched as she stood up and quickly unmade her mattress, flipping it over to find the crude stitching on the inside.

"How original." said Cersei accompanied with an eye roll.

Aerion couldn't help it, he giggled.

Cersei's head snapped up turning to examine the room. Her eyes settled on the curtains and strode swiftly over pushing them aside. Aegon and Aerion looked up at her, looking both amused and scared.

Cersei grabbed them both by the back of their shirts and proceeded to drag them out of the room and down the hall. Along the way she stopped and handmaid and told her that the mattress in her room was in need of changing.

Then she dragged them towards their fathers solar.

Rhaegar was meeting with Tywin about ways to appease the other Lords now that they had betrothed another royal and all the remaining families would be competing for the remaining prince. In past Targaryens had wed Hightowers, Arryns, Baratheons, and Martells. His marriage to Cersei was a first for the Targaryens and he knew that it had given the other Lords hope that they could sink their teeth into a royal.

They were trying to figure out if anyone needed positions on the council or if merely money or trade deals would suffice. Dany was already betrothed to Quentyn Martell so they could serve as envoys across the Narrow Sea, so there was no chance of betrothing her.

Tywin was suggesting something to pacify Mace Tyrell when the doors flew open and Cersei marched in. She was dragging Aegon and Aerion along behind her and had a murderous look in her eyes.

"Cersei what are you doing here?" asked Tywin in a voice that suggested he was not happy about the appearance of his daughter.

Cersei glared at her father, "Father, if you will excuse us, Rhaegar and I need to talk to our children."

Tywin glared at his daughter for a minute before bowing to the king and stiffly exiting the room.

Rhaegar turned to his wife, his eyebrow raised in amusement, "What have they done this time?"

They were all used to the boys constant pranking and most of the time it was harmless. But Rhaegar knew Cersei wouldn't have come to him if it weren't something serious.

"They crossed the line," snapped Cersei as she pushed her children into a pair of chairs at the desk.

"What did they do?" The King sighed, seeing that his wife was glaring at the boys. Their hair was still short, only an inch or so long, and they looked rather amusing.

Cersei was fuming, "They sheep shifted my bed." She hissed.

Rhaegar couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Cersei glared at him and he saw his sons glance at each other in wonder.

"What?" Rhaegar asked innocently.

"Why are you laughing?" Cersei asked her voice rising swiftly.

"Because I told you this would happen!" Said Rhaegar, keeling over in laughter.

She glared at her husband as he finished up laughing. He finally stopped and turned to look at his sons.

"Why'd you do it?" He asked.

"We were mad at mother." Said Aerion firmly.

"Why?" asked Rhaegar.

"She took our dragons away," said Aegon quietly.

Rhaegar gave Cersei a pointed look, "But you get to see them every two months."

"That's not enough time to train them," murmured Aegon.

Rhaegar turned his glare to Cersei, who at least had the good sense to look awkward.

Rhaegar crouched down to look at his sons, "I think you should go out every two weeks, and you can say for a whole week."

Cersei gasped and Rhaegar winked at his sons before he stood up and shooed them out of the room as Cersei continued to glare.

He turned and looked at her, "Don't give me that look." He said walking over to her, wrapping his arms around her. "Their Targaryen's, they need their dragons. I know you're scared of them, but they need the dragons."

Cersei rolled her eyes, as much as she hated to admit it, she knew the dragons were part of her children, even if they terrified her.

"They'll hurt them." She whispered, looking at Rhaegar, praying that he would understand her fear.

The King merely shook his head, "They know who birthed them. The dragons will be loyal to their parents, they would never dare to hurt them."

Cersei did not believe him for one minute. She pushed him away angrily and stormed out of the room. Rhaegar was refusing to see sense and Cersei was done talking to him until he would.

Rhaegar watched the sea from the window of his solar. For the past few weeks since he had changed Cersei's regulations on the children and their dragons she had refused to speak to him. He knew he shouldn't be surprised at this; she had done things like this before. This time however the reason behind her silence irked him.

As much as his wife hated to admit it, their children were Targaryen. They were in the direct line of inheritance, unlike the Baratheons who only came into play if all the known Targaryens died. To Rhaegar it was important that his children grow up to really and truly be Targaryen. Sometimes he felt Cersei didn't understand that.

He needed to talk to her, and the sooner the better. Sighing he rose to his feet and made his way to Cersei's chambers.

When he was admitted into the Queens chambers he found Cersei sitting in front of the fire wrapped in pale grey robe. She didn't turn her head to look at him, preferring to watch the fire.

Rhaegar sat down in the seat opposite Cersei.

"Cersei we need to talk," He murmured quietly.

Cersei raised her eyes to look at her husband, "What is it, Your Grace?"

Rhaegar sighed, "I know that you are scared of the dragons," Cersei snorted, "But the children need to be near them."

"They'll hurt them Rhaegar!" Cersei whispered, her eyes full of fear.

Sighing, he shook his head, "They won't, Cersei. The dragons understand better than anyone the importance of family. Our children birthed them, they are the fathers and mother of dragons, and the dragons will never harm them."

Cersei broke down into tears, "Rhaegar, I'm so scared." He knew it took her far more than most women to admit that. His lioness was not one for fear, and yet here she was, trembling at the return of his family's legacy. Although he wasn't offended, fear was outside of her control.

Rhaegar knelt next to his wife and Cersei fell onto his shoulder sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his hands sliding through her hair soothingly, the same way they often did with Daena when she wasn't allowed to do the same thing as he brothers. "I promise you, you don't need to be afraid," he whispered, "nothing will hurt them, dragons or not, and nothing will hurt you. Do you not trust me?"

She looked up at him, eyes rimmed red and watery. "Of course I do. But… They're merely children, Rhaegar!"

"Targaryen Children," The king reminded her quietly, watching her. The words could offend her, though she often seemed proud of his lineage, he knew she was just as proud to be a Lannister of Rock. To his eyes, Cersei seemed to take the news mildly, her expression tightening only minutely.

Though from that he could not have expected her words. "That didn't protect our last child, Rhaegar," she muttered. Her eyes closed and she wrapped herself tighter around him. They never talked about their loss, they carried on as King and Queen and parents to their three healthy children. She hadn't said a word of it since returning from Dorne, but that didn't mean he had stopped thinking of it. The memory made his insomnias worse, his dreams harsher.

Of course being Targaryen didn't protect their children from everything. But… "The dragons won't hurt them. They're blood of the Dragon." He stated firmly, though he knew she was no longer in the mood to argue. Rhaegar sat there holding her for hours, letting her cry out her fears until she eventually fell asleep in his arms.

Jamie hated when he guarded Cersei. He had to follow her around while she wandered from place to place chatting with all the annoying ladies of the keep. He only enjoyed it when she played with the children. Then he got to imagine that they were a family, that Daena was his daughter, Aerion and Aegon his sons. It didn't help that Aerion idolized his uncle, always trying to make him fight. Jamie was glad that Ser Arthur Dayne had taken over minding the younger prince. Dayne was by far a better warrior than Jamie and it lessened the hurt of having to watch the children that he so badly wished were his.

Today Cersei was not meeting with different Ladies; instead she was sitting on her balcony watching the sea for the sail of her children's ship. Jamie leaned against the railing watching her.

"As your brother I feel it is my duty to warn you, you worry too much." Jamie joked.

Cersei glared at her brother, "What if the got attacked or a storm took them? They could be dead, that is no laughing matter!"

Jamie turned to look at his sister smirking, "It's a short journey from Dragonstone to here, don't worry. They'll be fine."

Cersei looked unconvinced, continuing to watch the water.

"Do you ever wish things had been different?" Jamie asked.

"What?" Cersei's head snapped up, "What do you mean?"

Jamie shrugged, "Do you ever wish they weren't his?"

Cersei stared at her brother, "Whose else would they be?"

"Robert Baratheon!" He teased, "No, mine Cersei, mine."

Cersei looked away, trying to avoid this conversation, "Jamie don't." she whispered.

"We could have done it," said Jamie, ignoring her, "Run away to Norvos or the Southern isles. We could have married and been happy." He knelt in front of Cersei, taking her head in his hands and forcing her to look at him, "Why didn't we?"

Cersei trembled, looking anywhere but at her brother, "We couldn't Jamie, it was a fool's dream, nothing more."

Jamie shook his head firmly, "Cersei I loved you, I still love you, and I will always love you!" Cersei was blinking back tears, "We could still do it. We could flee this place and be together, be in love again." He was pleading. He needed her to still love him; he couldn't believe his twin, his other half, would love another.

Cersei shook her head, "Jamie we can't. We never could." She rose to her feet, Jamie let her go feeling his heart ripped in two, when Cersei reached the door she turned to look at her brother, "I love Rhaegar, I'm sorry Jamie, it was a fools dream, nothing more."

With that she turned and left him alone on the balcony, wishing the sea would rise up and drown him so he wouldn't have to watch her love another for one more minute.


End file.
